


Imaginary

by Khyara



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khyara/pseuds/Khyara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester had an imaginary friend who took care of him and disappeared by the time he was five. John Winchester had only one child. Mary Campbell had a secret. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. Imaginary People

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

**_Chapter 1:Imaginary People_ **

 

It hurts, that’s all he can think about. He cries in pain and wishes for his dad to come back and take him away from this place. He wishes that Dean would be here with him, he always knows how to fix things, how to fix him.

 

Ms. Grey finally arrives, picks him up from the ground and takes him to the infirmary. She tries to calm him by rubbing small circles on his back while the school nurse patches him up. Batman band-aids hide away the bruises, a super hero always helps a comrade in despair. But Sam doesn’t want Batman’s help, he wants a real hero, he wants Dean.

 

Ms. Grey asks him who Dean is and he freezes, time seems to stop and he looks at them in confusion. He hasn’t realized that he has been muttering Dean’s name since he fell from the tree. He’s going to be in trouble. Dad is going to get angry.

 

“Sammy…who is Dean”? Nurse Claire asks again, in a soothing tone. It calms and terrifies him at the same time.

 

Sam can’t explain who is Dean. He has been told that Dean does not exist, that he made him up.

 

He’s been told that Dean is his imaginary friend. Only that it doesn’t feel like that. Sam has vivid memories of the boy, he remembers seeing him always around him, looking after him, playing with him.

 

Dean is the boy who doesn’t make sounds when he moves. The one who seems to understand the needs of the stray animals they always manage to find.

 

Dean, who has pale skin instead of tanned like his, whose eyes are huge and green instead of brown. Dean is the boy who calls him little brother and promises to never ever leave him.

 

 

 

The word echoes in his mind. He can’t explain Dean to them because Dean is the child his father and the doctor have told him is not real.

 

 

“No one. Dean is not real. Dad says so.”

 

 

Julie Grey smiles at Sammy Winchester in acceptance of his answer, files the name ‘Dean’ in her memory and decides to find out the truth on her own. She has spent enough time around psychologists to learn how to pick up these types of things. It’s not the first time she would use the knowledge she got from listening to her parents never ending ramble about work to help the kids she works with.

 

 

Sometimes words have complete different meanings, the trick is to know how to listen.

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

Julie stares at the picture Mrs. Roberts has sent her. The glass of wine is forgotten on the table, the music stopped ten minutes ago. Time seems to stand still and she’s unable to stop looking at it. It’s a group shot of a first grade class, Mrs. Roberts’ class.

 

 

_Second row, he’s the fifth from right to left._ The sentence is written on the back of the picture, blue ink in a neat cursive style is her formal introduction to a boy she never met.

 

The child is small and thin but it is impossible to miss him. Light blond hair with a haircut that tries in vain to hide the delicate features of his face. High cheekbones, thin lips and the most expressive green eyes she has ever seen. There’s an almost tangible sadness in those eyes, as if the kid knew in advance what was going to happen a week later.

 

……………………….

 

The letter from Katherine Roberts tells her the story of Dean Winchester. It’s the tale of a child who was taken away from his father’s custody five days after the picture was taken. Five days were too late to do any good. Dean died in the hospital four days after he was admitted. His body was unable to cope with all the damage. He was going to turn six in two weeks.

 

 

Kath had noticed that Dean always wore long-sleeved t-shirts regardless of the weather and suspected something was not entirely right in the household. Dean never complained or told her anything about his family life. In all honesty for a six-year old Dean Winchester was abnormally quiet. His world revolved around his little brother and how to keep him safe and happy, the rest of the things were simply irrelevant.

 

 

The father had rented a small apartment outside of downtown. The place was not safe for children to walk alone, though it did not seem to matter much to Winchester senior. Dean walked with his brother every morning; Sam went to the nursery and Dean to first grade.

 

 

On Tuesday Dean and Sam arrived late, half an hour late, out of breath and terrified. Sam’s eyes were red and the palms of Dean’s hands were covered in cuts. The nurse spent an hour taking out the glass shards from his hands. In a case of a strange coincidence, that was the day their father made an appearance to pick them up. The look of rage at the sight of his youngest son gave Kath a terrible feeling that something horrible was about to happen.

 

On Wednesday John Winchester drove Sam to the nursery and told Kath that Dean was sick. Kath told herself that the glint of satisfaction in Mr. Winchester’s eye was nothing more than a trick of the light.

 

On Thursday Kath asked Sammy how his brother was and the child’s reply is that he didn’t know. He wasn’t allowed to see him since he got sick. The foreboding feeling expanded.  

 

On Friday when the nursery teacher told Kath that Sam hadn’t come she called the police and ask for their help.

 

On Friday afternoon, when she was leaving the school, officer Peterson came to talk with her. Dean Winchester was in the ICU with multiple trauma and blood loss. They were looking for John Winchester, although everything pointed out that he left the day before.

 

When the police arrived to the apartment they found it empty with the exception of the unconscious six-year old covered in blood and bruises. The word ‘monster’ was carved on both of his arms.

 

The child died four days later. The police main suspect was John Winchester but they only have the circumstantial evidence. Charges were presented, however the investigation did not advance.

Dean’s case became another number in the statistics of child abuse victims of that year.

 

 

……………………….

 

 

Julie curses loudly and cries angry tears of frustration. The letter has arrived too late. Sam Winchester was removed from the school a month ago. She was not able to meet his father. Dean remains a number waiting for justice that may never arrive.

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

Missouri Mosley knows she made a terrible mistake. She promised Mary Campbell to keep her child safe and she’d ended up doing exactly the opposite.

 

When Mary Campbell returned to Lawrence she wasn’t alone. After the death of her parents, she moved away and got married. She had been happy, happier than she could remember until her husband’s death. She hasn’t given Missouri the details, but the psychic suspected it had something to do with the Campbell’s family business, something Mary had not been able to leave behind.

 

Mary was not alone, she came back to Kansas with her child, a beautiful boy she had named Adrian. A beautiful boy that did not feel like any other boy Missouri had held before.

 

It took weeks until she got the answers from Mary. How she had fled the city two weeks after the accident. How she had cut off the relations with her husband’s friends and family in order to keep them safe. She told her the truth and made her swear to never repeat it.

 

Dean was special, more so than what she had thought.

 

When Mary met John, Missouri told her to be careful. When they got married three months later and John insisted on adopting her son she felt that something has been put into motion. When Adrian’s name was changed to Dean and Mary accepted it without arguing Missouri started to check for a love spells or something alike. When Sammy was born Mrs. Mosley accepted that maybe Mary had simply fallen in love with John.

 

When Mary died six months after Sam was born and John had been frantic looking for answers she told him about what lurks into the night, she told him about Mary’s fears, she told him about Adrian. 

 

When Bobby Singer called her asking about what did she know about a Winchester that had appeared on his doorstep she told him his story.

 

That’s when she knew she made a terrible mistake. Bobby told her that Winchester had only one son, Samuel.

 

There was no Dean or Adrian, according to Bobby there had never been.

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Sam Winchester takes a deep breath and smiles to himself. He likes Central Park better in autumn than in any other season. Moving to New York was kind of a last minute decision. His acceptance to the law school in Columbia made it possible in the end. He has found a place, not too far away from school, it’s not much but it’s a whole new beginning.

 

Sitting on the grass and enjoying the sun, he let his mind drift away. His thoughts go back to the events that transpired the last couple of months.

 

Things with Jessica had ended up in civil terms. It had been his longest relationship, the one that puts the milestone in his adult life. He thought Jess was the one, he had really believed it to the point that it was him who insisted on moving together.

 

If it hadn’t been for the acceptance letter from the university, and the strange dreams he had it might have never ended.  

 

The letter had opened up his eyes to the possibilities he hadn’t realized about. His self appointed exile from the Winchester family gave him freedom to move wherever he wanted. The only reason to remain in California was Jess.

 

Jessica.

A year ago, he believed he was going to ask her to marry him by the time he got enrolled in law school. She was everything he ever dreamed and hoped to find in a girl. She was perfect for him, for the Sam that studied at Stanford all these years. For the one that was desperate to have a normal life. But Sam had come to realize that no matter how much he pretends to be normal, at the end of the day he is not.

 

Years of reluctant attendance to the John Winchester’s boot camp had inevitably left a mark on him. Whenever unexplainable events happened his mind would provide a list of possible explanations that included the logical options, as well as the supernatural ones.

 

He loved Jess and cherished the gift of normalcy she brought to his life. But the fact that he hadn’t been entirely honest with her is enough proof that she deserves better. He’d never cheated on her, not with a girl anyway. He’d never lied about his life; he simply left her questions unanswered. He knows lying by omission is still lying. It wasn’t fair on her. There she was, planning a whole life with him without really knowing who Samuel Winchester is.  

 

Jessica doesn’t deserve to live a lie and last summer Sam realized he didn’t want her to do it.

 

Sam sighs and closes his eyes. He’s not going to think about any of that for now. He doesn’t regret anything from his time in Stanford and the people he met while studying there. Now he’s starting over again, learning from his mistakes and hopefully this time around he would avoid repeating them.

 

The park is relatively quiet at this time of the day, is quiet enough that he can hear the distinct sound of laughs getting closer to him. The voices are hushed, soft-spoken words that make it impossible for him to make up their meaning. A sense of peace surrounds him and it feels like being home.

 

Brown eyes open in time to watch a very beautiful woman playing with a boy who seems to be not older than eight or nine years old at most. Her hair is light brown, long, and flowing in the breeze like an aura around her face. He suspects that hair like that would feel like silk. She’s beautiful. Her skin is pale and her grey blue eyes look up in time to catch him staring.

 

The silvery laughter makes him pay attention to the child that has ended up stretched out on the grass. He hardly pays attention to children, but Sam can’t deny that the kid is indeed a beautiful one. He shares the delicate features of the young woman, lighter hair and deep green eyes instead of blue. He sits down and looks at him with unveiled curiosity.

 

A memory comes swiftly to Sam’s mind. He remembers watching similar green eyes. He remembers warm hugs and whispers in the dark. He remembers promises of never leaving him alone. He remembers Dean.

 

“Dean” Sam doesn’t know why he says the name with such vehemence, after all Dean was an imaginary friend. Wasn’t that what everybody told him?

 

The boy stares at him in confusion, and stays silent for a couple of seconds, he seems to reach a decision and waves at him from the safety of his mother’s arms.

 

“I’m Galen, is nice to meet you.”

 

Blue eyes stare at him as if seizing his intentions, evaluating if he is a friend or a foe. Sam passes the test because she nods in his direction and adds, “And I’m Lara, do you live around here?”

 

Sam smiles at them and feels that he has finally found that part of himself that’s been missing all these years.

 

“I’m Sam, Sam Campbell. I’ll be attending law school here.”

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

The whirring sound of the machines unnerves her. This should not have happened, a child should never have to experience something like this. Children are sacred. They have to be protected, cherished, and not beaten senseless.

 

She would never understand why Mary Campbell decided to run away after Calahen’s burial. She wasn’t there when it happened. She doesn’t know if anyone explained to Mary that she and her child would be protected until the end of their days.

 

When she first hears the news about his death she doesn’t know what to think. She has kept in touch with Calahen and some of the others despite their association with Elhar. Her loathing for the elder may never change, but she will never forget that it was Calahen who protected and looked after her. She can certainly overlook his ill judgment about some of the people he chooses to associate with.

 

She writes to him from time to time, letters are a thing of the past, but she enjoys the motion of handwriting her news to him. They would be old news by the time he reads them, though that’s not the important thing. On the odd day in between years she does give him a call.

 

She thought they were friends. That is probably the reason why finding out that he married and fathered a child sting a bit. She thought that he trusted her, apparently he didn’t feel the same.

 

A mortal.

Calahen chose to be with a mortal.

His omission about the news in his life suddenly made perfect sense.

 

 

She wonders if he knew. Did Mary tell him about her family? Did he know he was marrying the only daughter of a hunter? It doesn’t matter, not anymore, both of them are dead.

 

She loses track of time easily, days can turn into months and she hardly realizes it. They say it’s a repercussion of the incident. They say it could be worst. She thinks she is irreversibly broken or at least incomplete. There are missing pieces lost too long ago.

 

She was told of Calahen’s death a year after it happened and even then, they avoided going into details. As if that would stop her from finding out the truth, they should know better. It takes time and a lot of convincing, but she unravels the story of Calahen’s life fact by fact. She finds out about the child a year later, and then began her quest to find them.

 

The child is alive but only barely. If he’s left under the care of the doctors he will die. He will fade and she can feel that it had already begun.

Fading is not a nice thing to experience, a bit better than dying but not by much.

 

She’s not sure if she is prepared for this. Cal was like a brother, however it doesn’t mean that she would be the best choice to raise his child. But leaving him to fade is not really an option, not at all. She swears in Sindarin about manipulative elves that refuse to leave her alone, even if they are dead.  

 

Her hands caress the child’s forehead and she leans down to whisper in his ear. The words are soft spoken in a language that is foreign to most people. She repeats them again and again. The monitor beeps once, then twice. A doctor and two nurses rush into the room in time to watch as the boy open his eyes and looks straight at Larahel.

 

“Welcome back little one. No one will ever harm you again.” She smiles and brushes the hair from his forehead where she presses a soft kiss.

 

Dean smiles back and close his eyes again. He feels safe and it’s been too long since he felt like that.

 

He remembers a boy with chocolate brown eyes. Dean cares a lot about the boy, but there’s a man with the boy. The man screams and hurts him whenever he can. Dean is tired of the pain; he’s tired of hiding the bruises, and being hungry all the time. He cares about the boy, but the words in his ear make it hard to remember why does he care.

 

……………………….

 

 

The Rivers name holds incredible amounts of power. Papers are presented and Dean Winchester is declared officially dead a day later. Lara Rivers, the cousin and best friend of Clyde has officially adopted Galen, the son of Mary Campbell and Clyde Gallaher. They leave the hospital a week later.  

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*


	2. 2. Unreal events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : Supernatural and their characters belong to their respective owners. I’m merely borrowing them for a time. No profit is gained with this story.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

**_Chapter 2:Unreal Events_ **

 

 

A good number of mortals believe in fate. It’s easier for them place the responsibility on someone or something else, like higher power with a vindictive nature.

 

Larahel prefers the approach of cause and effect. If you know the root of a problem, then you would have more time to come up with a solution. If you have time, plans can be changed and strategies redesigned. This approach to life has been quite useful for her.

 

Of course, all rules do have exceptions.

There are times when even the best-laid plans fail. There are days when Lara is almost convinced that fate is a sentient entity, one with a very twisted sense of humour.

 

Today is one of those days.

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

Lara fights down the urge to wrap Galen in her arms and run away from the park. Away from the young man who seems enthralled with Galen and her. Away from his brown eyes and the sparkle of recognition shining in them. Away, just far away.

 

 

Samuel Winchester is not a stranger. She has watched him from a far, and in more than one occasion helping the Winchester men.

 

 

The whole thing is nothing more than a travesty of justice. Lara has been unable to get a proper revenge on John Winchester. Any action against the man would have affected his child and Sam would have ended up in the foster system. Galen hadn’t talked about it, but the look in his eyes was a statement on its own. Plans for revenge are temporarily forgotten. She would make sure that John Winchester pays for his sins, there’s no doubt about it. She just needs to wait a little longer.

 

 

Sammy is not little anymore; if anything, it’s quite the opposite. His height comes as a shock for some people as Winchester senior is not as tall as willowy Sam has become. They can only blame themselves for failing to recognize Mary’s heritage. It’s easy for people to forget who else is responsible for half of Sam’s genes. One thing is certain; Mary Campbell has been seriously underrated in the family history.

 

 

Long limbs, shaggy hair and soulful brown eyes; Sam Winchester has become an attractive young man. Not exactly her type, but she can understand why Jessica fell head over heels for the law student.

 

 

Once upon a time Sam and Gael were brothers. They hadn’t seen each other in more than seventeen years. It’s almost a lifetime for humans, but the concept no longer applies to Galen. It never did. The differences between them cannot be ignored, regardless of how much one of them would like to. It’s an undeniable fact.

 

Sam is a young man and Galen is a child. Galen would still be a child for some years to come.

 

 

She would rather leave and pretend this encounter never happened. She could do that, but Galen has wrapped her arms around himself seeking a safe haven. He didn’t expect to see his brother today. Time has passed, some wounds healed. She can feel his body relaxing into the embrace as he looks at the young man with uncertainty. Sam is total stranger who once was his brother.

 

 

There are many things she could do in this situation. However, the decision is not hers but his. Her arms surround him in acceptance. She would go along with whatever he decides.

 

 

Galen is a child, her child now, but he was Sammy’s older brother first.

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

When he looks at the stranger Galen hardly sees the little boy he used to play with. But then he stares into his eyes and he finds him all over again. The same brown eyes that used to look up at him with fascination when he told him stories, annoyance when he reminded him that he was the older one and worry in the aftermath of a talk with John Winchester.

 

 

Sam doesn’t remember the details but Galen does.

His kind is blessed and cursed with a very good memory.

 

 

_Everything changed after Mary’s death. John had been ‘dad’ until that morning, in the afternoon after he went to see Mrs. Mosley he became ‘John’. John made sure that Dean knew the difference. Dean lost his remaining parent that day._

_He tried; he really tried not to act like he used to, he tried anything he could come up to avoid John’s ire. He stopped talking in his presence afraid to say the wrong words, but that only brought a whole set of new troubles for him. The first time John hit him it came out as a terrible surprise. It had never happened before, not when Mary was alive._

That night marked the beginning of a trend, one that went on until he ended up in the ICU and nana found him.

_After John’s visit to Mrs. Mosley Dean became used the harsh words and the silent treatment, of being left behind and held responsible of keeping his six-month brother safe and cared for. A five-year old could never be turned into a parent. It didn’t matter how many times he watched Mary took care of Sam, Dean was a child not an adult. Small disasters were always waiting to happen._

 

 

Galen abhors the smell of beer and whisky. The scent is forever linked in his mind with the taste of blood and the feeling of pain, with the vivid image of bruises with the colors of the rainbow plastered on his body, with feeling sick and exhausted, with crying himself to sleep and wishing that it could end.  

 

 

_The smallest things set John in a path of destruction. A comment about how polite and smart was his older son, implies that Dean would have no dinner that night. A woman saying that he’s such a handsome boy turns into a round of slaps and kicks._

_He looses the track of time when it happens. Sometimes he’s lucky and a hit delivered with too much strength provides an escape for his mind. He welcomes unconsciousness with arms wide open._

_When Dean turns seven he suspects that he’s indeed different. By the time he’s eight he knows that this difference is going to make his life even harder._

_Dean Winchester doesn't look like an eight-year old boy. He looks as if he's five, but he can pass for a very small six-year old. In the dead of the night he worries about what is wrong with him. Sammy keeps growing normally; he's almost his height now. Dean doesn't grow. That's not true, he does, but a slower rate than what could be considered normal. Maybe John is right and he's a monster. Maybe one day he would put him down._

_Dean reads Peter Pan to Sammy. He wonders if there’s a place for children like him, for the ones who don’t grow up even if they want to._

_The only good thing of his rare condition is that he’s been able to take care of Sammy without rising suspicious. But now he looks old enough to go to school and John decides that’s exactly what he would do._

 

 

Galen doesn't know if John was ever aware of what he was doing to him. Did he think it was all right? Lara says men like John are nothing more than ignorant fools, the most horrible example of human beings. As Dean, Galen's skin had resembled a map where every bruise had been an independent country. His map was always updated, there were weeks when the colors remained unchanged, other times they changed in rapid succession, but they never faded.

 

 

Deep down Galen knew it couldn't last forever.

 

 

Some days he had wished that a teacher or any adult would figure out what was happening to him. He would be taken away from John and no one would ever beat him again. His bruises would heal and finally fade away, Dean the human map will be no more. But then he remembered that leaving John meant leaving Sammy behind. The idea of the younger boy being exposed at the same treatment never failed to make him forget about being rescued. He couldn't be that selfish, he had to protect his little brother.

 

 

It wouldn't last forever.

At the time Galen hadn't known, but he would have died one way or another.

 

 

_The morning started as usual, today was the day scheduled for his class group shot. Dean woke up feeling oddly cold and that never happened before. He had a very high tolerance for the cold temperatures to the point that he rarely wears a jacket. It happened when he went to the kitchen to fix their breakfast. He turned on the kitchen to warm Sammy’s milk and froze halfway. He could have sworn he caught the glimpse of the flame, only that he saw it through his hand._

_He wanted to scream, but who exactly was going to come to his aid? John has been gone for three days and he might not come back in another week. Dean highly doubts that he would offer any help. Sammy is just a child who hasn’t realized yet that his older brother is starting to look younger than him._

Fading. Not even eight years old and he'd been fading.

 

 

Lara said that while his consciousness wanted to stay with Sam and keep him safe, his body had been unable to cope with all the strain of life as Dean. His spirit lost the will to keep fighting and started consuming the body that couldn't protect him anymore. She says it was a small mercy that he was mostly unconscious at the ICU; fading is the kind of experience that is better avoided. Lara has promised to tell him more when he's older. He wonders if she has been in the verge of fading as well.

 

 

_The days after the group shot are blurry. He’s terrified about the consistency of his body. What if he disappears in the middle of a class? What if he disappears and Sammy goes out to look for him? He makes Sammy to promise not to leave the apartment without him._

Galen thinks humans are too violent for their own good. Not even their children could be exempted of that behavior.

 

_The older boys demand money and hear no reason. The only money Dean has is back at the apartment and is precisely counted to last until Friday. He has nothing to give them. They share the same logic John follows. When he's unable to fulfill their demands the hostile behavior begins. The fists hit with precision at his torso, new bruises join the ones that hadn't faded yet._

_Three against one is unfair, it's even worst because Dean is smaller and can't really hit back. He looses his balance and falls down. At the last second his hands prevent his face to smash against the dirty street. Shards of broken glass cut the skin on his palms. He stops the scream from leaving his lips. Sam is already scared and Dean is not going to make it worst._

_Sammy is crying but he's untouched. He gathers their backpacks and put everything that could be saved inside of them. He convinces Sammy to go to school; the nurse will be able to help him he tells the younger boy. Everything will be all right he promises, even when he knows it's a lie._

Galen remembers seeing John Winchester waiting for them at the end of the school day. He remembers the way the man’s eyes had glinted in satisfaction. He remembers that he almost turned around and run back to Mrs. Roberts. Almost.

 

 

_The coldness returns to his body with vengeance, he’s freezing. He fights down the urge to flinch when John’s hand keep a painful grip on his shoulder. It may look natural to the onlooker, but Dean feels like he’s being lead to his doom. He can see the school building becoming smaller as John drives back to the apartment._

_He knows that tomorrow he’s not going back to school._

 

 

Galen has never been able to figure out how to feel about John Winchester. Hate and fear had been the constant emotions when he was under the man's care. No, not care, being under his authority is more accurate, although, command fits better. John had conditioned him to put his brother safety at the top of his priorities. If needed, he would have died for Sam without a second thought.

Dean was not a child but a caregiver and a bodyguard. His own welfare did not matter, unless it stopped him performing his tasks.

 

 

John's voice was usually grave but when he was furious it was even deeper. It was the voice of a broken man, but what bothers Dean the most is that hint of madness in his eyes. Staring at John Winchester's eyes was like looking at an abyss, like walking at the edge and being one step closer to falling.

Galen remembers that the insults and accusations always flowed effortlessly from John's lips, as if he didn't need to think about them.

 

 

It was almost ironic that the last time John used Dean as his personal human punch bag he didn't say a word. He did use him as a canvas one last time and instead of saying the words he chose to carve them on his skin. Dean was not only a map but a book as well, even if he had only two words written on him.

 

 

_Dean is barely aware of his surroundings. There are no distinct colors and the objects are only distant shapes. He steps in and out of consciousness, he’s in pain and then he’s not there anymore._

_The feeling of something sharp piercing the skin on his right forearm brings him back to the present. It hurts as the blade goes deeper and deeper twirling and twisting in a maddening slow motion. He’s exhausted; there is no strength left to attempt moving away from the blade._

_The metal keeps dancing and it moves to his other arm. He feels the blood pooling under him, it feels warm against his cold skin. Dean asks to whomever is listening that doesn’t want this anymore. He can’t keep doing this. He wants out. He doesn’t want to wake up after this, so can’t someone please let him die?_

 

 

_The last thought he has is a plea for forgiveness. “I’m sorry Sammy”_

 

Galen presses his body against Lara's unconsciously. He rubs his arms slowly, finger lingering over the skin where the scars would be. His body healed but he can still see the words. Words carved out of hate on a child who wasn't able to fight back.

 

Lara's arms around him tighten their hold. It's not harming but protective, it tells him that he's not alone. The warmth of her skin is comforting, she smells of flowers and woods, of rainfall and wind. It's a smell that brings comfort; it's the smell of home.

 

Galen is not Dean anymore.

Dean died and Galen lives.

Dean gave up but Galen is a survivor.

 

 

He cares about Sam.

He’s not his Sammy anymore as much as he’s not the same Dean Sam used to know. Both have changed, and in Sam’s case grown a lot.

He’s not his Sam but Galen thinks he would like to know more about the man he has become. After all, he raised him up for almost five years.

 

 

Both of them have changed, but he’s still the older brother, even if he doesn’t plan on telling Sam that part.

 

 

“I’m Galen, is nice to meet you.”

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*


	3. Highly hypothetical Futures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : Supernatural and their characters belong to their respective owners. I’m merely borrowing them for a time. No profit is gained with this story.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

  


**_Chapter 3:Highly hypothetical Futures_ **

 

  


Azazel listens impassively at the latest report on one of his - if not the most - special children. Emotions are weakness easily exploited in a place like hell and he cannot afford to show how much he wants to blast away the insignificant demon giving him the news.

Too many eyes are witnessing the exchange and he opts to nod at the right moments and finally dismiss the low-level-fiend.

 

 

To the untrained eye this facade of calm and disinterest was almost perfect. The only telling is the slight twitch of his jaw. Those who have known him the longest know the meaning of the gesture; something or someone has managed to disrupt one of his carefully planned schemes and Azazel, planner extraordinaire, is less than amused by it.

In the end it all comes down to bloody Mary Campbell.

If the bint would have stayed where she was supposed to nothing of this would have happened.

 

 

Azazel would like to conveniently forget that one of the reasons that prompted Mary’s departure from Lawrence was the death, for the second time, of her mother. It would be easier for him to disregard Meg’s last interaction with the Campbell matriarch as the action that put in motion this disaster. It would and it could be easier, but he’s seething and someone is going to pay for this mess.

 

 

He remembers securing the pact with Mary by giving her the chance to resurrect Deanna. Killing both of her parents proved to be a great strategy that he used a couple of times with the children of hunters. The then nineteen-year old Mary had reluctantly agreed and up until then everything had gone according to plan.

  
  
And then came Meg.

 

 

Meg, his daughter by choice, who was so ruthless and twisted that he couldn’t help but feel proud of her. The problem was that she decided to be ruthlessly twisted on Deanna Campbell and that single event put a dent on an otherwise perfectly designed plan.

 

 

Deanna’s death prompted a deviation on the schedule. Instead of following the steps from other hunters’ children and dedicated her life to avenge her mother, Mary had simply walked away. She left Lawrence, left Kansas, and before Azazel could apply some damage control, she left the states.

 

 

What followed was the clearest example, that knowledge can be acquired regardless a student’s preference. The Campbell girl proved that despite all of her complains about being taught the ways of the hunter, she did learn most of their traits. Mary managed to disappear into thin air and avoided detection for four years. As much as it pains, Azazel is quite aware that the only reason why she was found was because she came back to the place where all began.

 

 

She didn’t come back alone.

 

 

Despite her apparent dislike for the hunter’s instruction she got, Mary proved to be quite competent staying under the radar. She avoided detection for the next four years until she reappeared back in Kansas and with a baby in her arms. The union between Mary Campbell and John Winchester was something that, even for him, came out as a surprise. He wouldn’t have thought that Winchester had any sort of chance to score with her. Azazel strongly suspects that someone, either high or below the earth, pulled some strings for that to happen. Mary was not the same rebelling teen that he convinced, nor was she the scared gal who ran away from a family tragedy. The Mary Campbell that came back was stronger, suspicious and decided to fight back if that was what was needed. Her only weakness was her child.

  


Demons know close to everything. Except when they don’t.

 

 

He had demons monitoring the elusive Campbell since she reappeared in Lawrence and not even once they managed to find out about what had happened to her during those four years, nor did they manage to get the name of the baby’s father.

 

 

When a demon reports that touching the child had physically hurt him Azazel suspects that the child might be a direct descent of the Nephilim. An unexpected event, but one he could turn into his favour, nephilim are known to be powerful and relatively easy to corrupt. His curiosity was picked enough that he decided to venture to Kansas.

 

 

Not a Nephilim.

 

 

Something worse, but powerful, oh so powerful. If Azazel was successful in turning the child away from his family, he would be an unstoppable ally, the perfect weapon. The idea of twisting someone of his kind was too much of a challenge for him to turn aside. Azazel began to plan accordingly, a couple of adjustments to the original design were needed, but the results would be increased tenfold.

  
 

Mary’s death goes according to plan, they’re back on schedule and the next phase of the plan begins seamlessly.

   
  
His influence on John only grows as time goes by and the man unleashes all of his rage and fears on the wrong child, the one who has the power to protect them all. It seems almost poetically ironic the way the man chooses to ignore the fact that his own child is the one already corrupted. Denial is always such a useful emotion in his line of work.

  
  
Azazel believes that John Winchester could make an excellent demon; in fact, if he keeps on track he will eventually end up down under. The demon might be the force whispering the thoughts of hate and distrust on the man’s ear, but the execution of it, that is all Winchester’s.

  


Azazel relaxes once again; the plan is back on track, with some alterations, but everything has been done for the greater evil. Life on the upper side goes by, as it should, until the day John Winchester crossed the line. Instead of the kid committing parricide is John who manages to kill the child. 

  


And that’s when the plan had to be reformulated once again.

  
  
From all of his special children, Samuel Winchester is the one that gives him the worst headaches. Azazel goes back to personally orchestrating the main events on the younger Winchester’s life, always prodding him to a specific side, the right one for someone of his nature. He thought he could stop worrying about the earthling when Samuel goes to college, as the next part of the plan will be put in motion and then, then Sam will be his.

  


Only that it didn’t happen quite like that.

  
  
It seems Samuel has inherited his mother’s ability to frustrate his plans. He left California without a second look. Samuel had dared to leave behind the girl, the one Azazel had personally chosen for the plan. The younger Winchester had a sort of epiphany, packed all his belongings and left.

  


If only that would be all, but no, that would be too much to ask for. Samuel Winchester has pulled a ‘Mary’ and no matter what he tries in terms of locating his missing child he simply can’t seem to find him.

  
  
Azazel unsheathes the dagger he always carries and cut the palm of his right hand. The crimson liquid falls on the stone bowl in front of him as he drops a handful of the herbs from a wooden box covered in runes. The blood begins to boil and twirl as he chants and he feels the pull on his powers.

 

 

A minute later a blonde is dropped in the middle of the room, deep gashes covering her arms and face. She looks rather surprised at the unexpected summoning, that is until she takes a look at Azazel eyes. A shiver runs through her stolen body at the look that promises a world of pain.

  


“Welcome home Meg.”

 

  


.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

 

Bobby Singer was at a moral crossroad.

  
  
John Winchester had gone missing while on a hunt and Caleb has decided to go looking for him, Bobby had been alright with that plan and even gave him some information he heard about the general area where Winchester had disappeared. However, Caleb’s plan didn’t involve him going alone after the missing hunter, he wanted Sam’s address, he said that it was only fair his son took part of the search party.

 

 

That part of the plan was not all right with Bobby.

  


In the great scheme of life he acknowledges that John Winchester has its uses. Yes, he seems to be fearless and has never turned down a hunt. Yes, his work has helped to save countless of innocent lives, but all of that never gave him the right to take them on his own.

  
  
After Missouri’s strange call so many years ago he did his own research and what he found left him speechless. There had been a Dean Winchester, adopted son of a John Winchester, who died while he was in the children ICU of a small city in Oklahoma. The investigation pointed out at Winchester senior as the responsible, charges for a second-degree murder were raised and then mysteriously dropped. There was no follow-up, nothing at all.

 

  
John Winchester could be a great hunter, but he was a sorry excuse for a human being and the unfittest person to be a parent. That’s the only reason why he didn’t set his dogs on the man the next time he appeared on his doorstep. Where John goes Sammy follows, and Bobby needed to make sure that the child was healthy and in one piece, hell, he needed to know that Sam was alive.

 

  
Robert Singer learned the meaning of parenthood by proxy because of Sam.  
Karen had wanted a child, but he had been terrified that his childhood experiences would turn him into his father. He refused. They had a fight and then everything went wrong and by the end of that disastrous week he was left alone.  Maybe his father had been right. Maybe he was somehow cursed.

  
   
Sam’s presence in his life was an unexpected chance to prove his father and himself wrong, a way to make Karen proud. He could have been a father, a good one, if only they could have had the time.

  
  
Robert Singer became an honorary uncle. It was Bobby, whom Sam called when he couldn’t figure out some of his schoolwork. It was Bobby who helped Sam to complete his college applications. It was Bobby, whom Sam called when he got his admittance letter to Stanford. And it was Bobby the one Sam told about his plans of leaving California and moving to New York.

   
  
And so here he is, suddenly being the one with the power to decide if Sam remains in the dark about his father dubious whereabouts, living his life the way he wanted, or if allows Caleb to pull him back to the hunter’s lifestyle.

  


Trust has a very fragile nature, Bobby knows all about it. 

Sometimes the right choice demands some creativity.

  
  
Bobby has lived long enough to learn a trick or two on how to maneuver people. You can’t last in this line of job if you’re not able to lie convincingly. He told Caleb how much of an “idjit” he is and invites him a beer. Time to work on his alternative story.

  
  
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

  
  
  
Caleb leaves without what he came looking for, but he does not leave completely empty handed. Bobby has promised to contact Sam and meet him as soon as he convinces the younger Winchester to join the hunt. Three is a better number than two in his book and Singer is quite proficient with research.

  
  
  
Bobby’s reasoning makes sense to Caleb, who is quite aware of the difficult relationship between the Winchester men. Sam has gone off to college and Caleb’s unexpected presence might work against his goal of convincing him to join them. The fact that John didn’t know where his son was living is proof enough of how much distance both men have put between them.   

  
  
  
Yes, Bobby’s plan is better than his. Besides, the more the merrier.

  
  
  
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

 

  
Sam’s arms are full of grocery bags when his phone goes off, proving that he has overcome his clumsy teenage years he fishes it from the depth of his jeans pocket without dropping anything. Bobby’s number flashes on the screen and Sam wonders what could be the reason that has prompted this call.

  
  
  
The conversation is strangely short, not that Bobby could spend hours on the phone like a high school girl, but usually there are more facts and less mystery when he calls. The only thing he knows by the end of it is that Bobby will arrive in two days. It’s a good thing that the sofa in his place is not a torture device.

  


 

New York is a lot more expensive than California. Sam can’t afford a place of his own, but finds that sharing a place with Michael Holmes is not as bad as he thought it could be. The art student is quiet and almost shy, completely opposite to how boisterous Brady was. He has that absent-minded artist look perfected, hair in permanent disarray and traces of stencil on his fingers, regardless of how many times he washes his hands.

 

  


They have struck a tentative friendship. It’s impossible to ignore the person whom you are sharing living accommodations. As a bonus, Sam that there’s something amusing in riling up the guy. He has used Galen’s help in more than one occasion and that kid could be a devious strategist when he puts his mind on it.

 

 

  
His relationship with Galen is one hard to define. He feels a connection with the kid despite their age difference, Sam is grateful that Lara doesn’t think he is some sort of perv when he asks if he could visit Galen.

   
  
  
Galen is an only child, the same as Sam. The only difference is that Galen has a set of parents who take care of him. Alexander and Lara Rivers are absurdly rich, too young and good looking to be the parents of a ten-year old boy, his teacher from eight-grade, Mrs. Cooper, would be horrified.

 

 

 

Maybe he could convince the Rivers to meet Bobby, if only to see the astonished look on the hunter’s face.

 

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

  
Galen watches idly as the raindrops fall against the window panel.

 

 

Something is going to happen soon, he can feel the anticipation all around him. Hi mother has been restless and his father has spent most of his time in meetings with people he had never seen before.

 

 

He hasn’t asked them about all the commotion. It’s not because he thinks they wouldn’t tell him the truth. His reasons are more selfish; he feels that the moment he is told, his life would change again.

Galen is not sure if he is ready for another life-change event.

 

 

_Some nights he still dreams about John. He doesn’t wake up screaming as he used to, though, he can’t help the shivers that serve him as a companion for the day. Lara and Alex always know when he’s having one of those days. Some times he tells them about the dreams. Some times he keeps quiet. He has come a long way, although, there are still miles for him to walk in the road of recovery._

 

_Mom understands._

_She has nightmares as well. The elders look sorrowful whenever she has them. Dad looks crushed, even when he valiantly tries to hide it; his eyes are the ones that betray him._

_She avoids everyone but him on those days. She talks less, but otherwise always keep up whatever plan they had for the day. Galen doesn’t mention the fact that her eyes are azure blue instead of grey. She returns the favour when he has his difficult days; she keeps her arms closer to him, hugs the shivers away from him._

 

 

_He asked dad about it once. When he was still Alex and not quite ‘dad’ or ‘ada’._

_He thought he wouldn’t get a reply after five minutes of waiting for the man to articulate a reply. Alex didn’t tell him, instead of it, he showed him. The paint is magnificent, the colours look vibrant despite the years, and it still retains the regal air it probably had in its glory days. He can see two people he has come to know fairly well in it. The eyes of the Alex in the painting are not as haughty blue as the ones in his Alex. However, the critical changes are on the female. Lighter hair and blue eyes, azure blue eyes._

_Alex’s voice told him the story behind the painting. He told him about the person he loved above anything else, about the lies that were crafted over truths, about placing someone else’s needs on top of yours. Galen understands that concept, he was taught to make Sam his first priority. It’s different for Alex; he made the choice on his own._

_Alex is nothing like John and he would never be. He became ‘ada’ after that._

_Galen lives the life he was denied and forgets about his other life. It’s easier than what he could have thought. Visits to the doctor fill the months of his first year living as a Rivers. The damage done to his body while he lived with John is not irreversible, but it would take time to be undone. His growth has been slowed down and it would take years for him to get back on track._

_It’s so easy for Galen to forget that they are not his real parents when they look at him with so much love and concern. He forgets about Dean, though he still remembers Sam. He doesn’t realize the first time the title replaces the name and by the time he does it doesn’t matter anymore._

 

  
The last time things changed around him, it was for the best.

 

 

Things are changing again and he’s afraid of what might happen. Is he the one to be held responsible for it? Had he unknowingly set this up motion when he started talking with Sam? Is he going to be punished because he wanted to get to know the boy who used to be his brother?

   
  
Galen watches the rain and feels cold even though the apartment is comfortably warm. A pair of arms surrounds him from behind; the smell of wood and the rain slows down his panicked heart rate.

 

 

“You are our son Galen. _Ionneg_. There’s not a thing in this earth that’s going to change it.” The rich baritone’s voice of Alex is nothing like John’s. This is a voice that holds love and care, it belongs to a man he calls father without hesitation.

 

 

He closes his eyes and let the words surround him. He has a family now and he’s not going to lose it. He’s not going to lose them. Not without a fight anyway.

  
  


To be continued…

  
  


.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*


	4. Illusive Images

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : Supernatural and their characters belong to their respective owners. I’m merely borrowing them for a time. No profit is gained with this story.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

  


**_Chapter 4:Illusive Images_ **

 

 

 

The taste of wood lingers on his mouth. It leaves an ashen taste on his tongue. Cheap alcohol is rarely good, but he doesn’t drink it because he likes it. He drinks because he craves the aftereffects. Years of regular consumption have increased his tolerance to the point he hardly feels anything on the first glass. This session would need a bottle, or maybe two.

It wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t always like this.

 

_He used to be an average man with average dreams. He wanted a family, a house, children and maybe a dog._

_He fell in love with a girl who was above average. She already had a kid, who was anything but average. By some unexplainable reason she fell in love with him and they got married._

_He had a family and a house. A child who wasn’t his, but one he loved the same._

 

 

_She was beautiful, intelligent and independent. She wasn’t made to fade in the background. She was too independent, too vibrant to be happy being just a housewife. He told her he understood and he truly thought he did._

_Months later he realized that he had lied to her and even to himself. He would never be able to give her the type of freedom she needed. There was so much at risk. He couldn’t tolerate the idea of losing her._

_He was only an average man who could only offer her average dreams._

He was bound to lose her.

And he did in the end, just not as he always feared.

Trouble always arises when one loves more than the other.

 

 

_Selfish and insecure, unable to believe that she would stay with him, he became the kind of man he despised. To this day he’s certain that changing her pills was one of the most despicable things he ever did. At the time it had seemed like the best option, the only option, the best way to secure his place in her life._

_A child._

_Their child would make sure that she would never leave him._

 

 

_He had a family, a house and two kids. He thought there would be time to work on getting a dog. He didn’t know that he had already run out of time._

_A couple of months later he lost his wife, he lost his house and was left with two kids. He became a broken average man. And, then when everything went out of control, when he lost himself in grief and rage he stopped being average._

 

 

_Haunted by the memories of that night he sought the answers from any available source. He wasn’t ready for the truth._

 

 

He can see that now. He didn’t go looking for justice, he wanted revenge and that was exactly what he delivered. If he saved someone as a result, it was a bonus. If people got hurt, he called it collateral damage. 

It was the recipe for a disaster and that was exactly what happened.  

 

 

_He was half drunk the first time he hit the child. When he woke up and realized what he did, he drank himself into oblivion. He tried to forget the betrayed look in the child’s eyes. The next time it happened, he was sober. He looked back at the child in defiance, convinced that he was doing the right thing. He was the righteous man in this warped reality. The one who fights against the monsters that took away his wife._

_The child was only a wolf in sheep’s clothing, waiting for the right moment to show his true nature._

 

 

He couldn’t stop himself. He remembers he didn’t even try to.

 

 

_The first slap knocked the child on the floor. His body moved on instinct and he kicked and punched the small body until he stopped trying to protect himself. The only thing he could think about was that his son could have been hurt. The little freak failed to protect him._

 

 

When he picked the knife he was so out of his mind that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself, even if he tried.

 

 

_There was blood on the floor and on the sad excuse of a rug that was already there when they moved in. How could such a small body contain so much blood? He thought it was unnatural for it to look at peace. Eyes closed, barely breathing and surrounded by a crimson halo._

_He left him there, without a second thought, without remorse. One does not feel sorry for something that should have never been born in the first place._

 

 

_The next morning he took Sam to the nursery as if nothing happened. He pretended to ignore the way his son kept staring at the closed-door. The question has hung in the air, but it was never voiced._

_He knew they had to leave. The police would never understand his reasons; they were not ready to learn the truth. He had to keep Sam safe, his child, his and Mary’s is the only child that matters._

 

 

 

 

He left Dean to die alone. He attacked a child and then left him to die alone. He broke his promise to Mary; he couldn’t care for her boy.  

 

 

_Sam didn’t ask any question on the first two days after they left the city.  Sam has seen what happens when questions are asked and his daddy didn’t want to answer them. He has seen the bruises on Dean’s pale skin too many times. Questions are dangerous._

 

 

He felt terrified the first time Sam asked him about Dean. His son was too young to understand reasons, he simply wanted his brother. The first time he shouted at Sam and saw the fear in his son’s eyes, he realized that he had to find a different solution.

 

 

John thought that changing Mary’s pill was the most loathsome thing he ever did, but he was wrong. He could sink even lower; he could do something even worse.

The pills were carefully ground, until only a white powder was left. Pixies’ dust to help forgetting the bad dreams and memories.

 

 

_The milk made Sam drowsy. His mind kept playing tricks on him and he sees Dean standing next to him one moment and then he’s gone. He’s told he’s an only child. The doctor explained to him that he made up another kid because he was lonely. Dean was not real they said. Dean was never real._

 

 

John felt relief for the first time when Sam stops asking about Dean. The child psychologist gave him an understanding look; John saved his daughter from a witch, he would help his child in exchange. Quid pro quo with the guilt of the survivors.

 

 

Sam forgot about Dean, but John didn’t. He never questioned his motives until now. The scotch burns his throat. The screams from the demon he exorcised two days ago still ring loud and clear in his ears.

 

 

_“You screw it up Winchester. You killed the wrong child. It wasn’t Mary’s child the one you should have been afraid, but yours. The one chosen is your child. The one doomed is your child.”_

 

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

 

Bobby feels his body relax against the trunk of the oak tree. It’s a beautiful morning with a clear blue sky and the smell of spring in the air. He can’t remember when was the last time he visited a park just to enjoy nature. Come to think, he can’t remember when was the last time he did something not work related. Maybe he needs a vacation.

 

 

Sam is usually the one who prompts him to do things like that. The one who tells him he needs to live, instead of simply going through the motions of days. It might have been Sam who was on his mind when he decides to visit Prospect Park.

Having driven almost nonstop from South Dakota, he now has a couple of hours to kill before his meeting with Sam. Prospect Park is not a foreign place for him; Karen had liked it better than Central Park the only time they visited New York.

 

 

It’s the middle of spring and the park is full of life. He can hear the sound of laughter in the distance, children running around and parents running after them. It might be why the humming noise followed by a buzzing caught his attention; the sounds are almost out-of-place among the cacophony of voices that come from the park. Leaving his comfortable tree trunk, Bobby follows the sound until he’s at the edge of the forest. What he finds is an unexpected scene.

 

 

Sam is here.

That’s not that much surprising as it is spring and a weekend. He’s just not doing what Bobby would have expected from a college student.

 

 

Sam holds a light-saber in his hand, a very stylized and expensive-looking toy that has nothing in common with the one Bobby bought for him when he was eight. All of Sam’s attention is focused on the body in front of him.  Judging by the height, Bobby guesses it’s a kid who couldn’t be older than ten. He can’t see his face.  

 

 

The hunter can’t shake the feeling that there’s something odd about the child. That he’s missing something that should have been obvious.

 

 

The child is on the thin side and judging by the way he shifts his body, Bobby suspects he’s used to physical exercise. The movements are fluid and graceful, not exactly something he usually sees in children of that age. The swordplay game turns out quite entertaining. Sam has the upper hand on strength and height. Bobby would add experience, but he is unsure if John knows a thing about swords.

 

 

Sam’s relies on the physical advantages he has, he concentrates on trying to disarm the child rather than causing him any harm. The kid is in constant motion; he runs circles around Sam with an ease that is only born out of practice. He advances, parries, and then retreats again. The light-saber changes hands with ease. Bobby suspects the boy has been trained to wield two instead of one. 

 

 

Samuel might think he’s the one in charge, but after five minutes of observation Bobby knows that the unknown child is toying with the young man.

The sound of clapping brings his attention to the couple sitting on a blanket. The man is young, older than Sam, but not by much. He has the kind of aristocratic features that Bobby associates with the covers of Karen’s novels. The woman has darker hair and is as stunning as her partner.

 

 

“I think dear Sam, you will have to yield.” The voice reflects amusement and Bobby agrees. It has been an amusing scene to witness. Prolonging the match would not change the end.

 

 

Both challengers stop at the comment. Sam looks mutinous, but turns of the toy. The child mimics his action and they bow before returning to their public.

The child makes a dive toward the couple and gets a reward in the form of a kiss from his mother. The father smiles and brushes the hair out of his eyes. It’s obvious to any onlooker that, despite their young looks, both of them care deeply for their child.

 

 

Sam accepts the bottle of water from the young woman. The look in his face tells Bobby that an argument is about to begin. He’s not disappointed.  

 

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

 

“The only reason I yield is because it’s obvious you taught Galen his way around the sword. God only knows for how long.”

 

“Don’t be a sour looser Campbell.” Lara replies, her voice quivers a little. She’s trying hard not burst out laughing at the indignant look that Samuel is sporting.

 

“Don’t get me started. You should not enable your deranged husband into teaching your child how to behead people.” Sam grumbles in reply. His pride is a bit bruised.

 

The ‘deranged husband’, as Sam just called him, gives the younger Winchester a bored look. The expression in his eyes, however, is anything but uninterested. Gone is the easygoing posture; in its place is a man who has been born into power, a man used to give orders.  

 

“No beheading has ever happened, nor is it going to happen Campbell. Galen is always full of energy and fencing could be practiced indoors. It is a perfect activity for winter.”

 

Sam has not grown up with John Winchester for a father and learned nothing from the experience.

 

 

He recognizes the veiled warning issued in that look. Sometimes Sam forgets that Alex is not another friend. The blond is especially sensitive when it comes to critics in regards of his parenting skills. Alexander has accepted his presence in his family for the sake of Galen, but Sam knows that at some level Alex sees him as a rival for Galen’s attention.

 

 

“Chess could be played indoors as well.”  Neutral comment, Sam hopes that is enough to move them back to safer topics.

 

 

Galen battles away the sandwich his mother is trying to force into his hand.

“We play chess too. Ad…Dad, tell him!”

 

 

Lara lets out a sigh of defeat and places the unwanted piece of bread aside. Galen is far too excited for eating. She suspects, one of the two men gave her child something with absurd amounts of sugar. The way Galen’s fingers play a symphony on the blanket is proof enough that she’s right on her guesswork.

 

 

“He knows Galen. Sam is a bit crossed at being defeated by a ten-year old.” Alex replies and hugs his son. His hand pulls the sleeve of Galen’s t-shirt, trying unsuccessfully to cover the fast tempo drumming of thin fingers.

 

 

Galen smirks at Sam from behind the protection his father’s embrace provides. Mischief shines in his green eyes. He just won this round.

 

 

Sam nods in his direction. Accepts defeat and enjoys the moment. Galen is happy, the knowledge that he is part of the reason for that happiness gives him a sense of peace.

It’s not his family, but they have accepted him. Sam thinks he might fit in as the distant cousin.

 

 

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

 

_He can feel the warm or her skin against his, it’s comforting and haunting at the same time. He has trained himself to stop the natural reaction of holding her as he used to. He fights down the need to reassure himself that she is real. That she is alive, that this is not another underhanded trick of his mind._

 

 

_Her breath is even and relaxed, she trusts on him secure in the thought that he will keep her safe. She allows herself to dream in his presence._

_His fingers slide through her hair. It has changed from its original colour. He has been told it is a side-effect of what happened to her. It still feels like silk and if closes his eyes, he can pretend for a while that reality is nothing more than a horrible nightmare. He can pretend that when he wakes up life would be exactly as it was before it all came crumbling down._

 

 

_He is being unfair and ungrateful._

_Things could be ten thousand times worse. Life could be exactly as it was before she woke up. He could be as he was before, in the verge of fading, but unable to let go. He has been given an unexpected gift, a parting gift that carries hope and despair in equal parts._

 

_Her fingers trace idly circles on his chest. It’s a familiar motion that always soothed him in the past and still does in the present. He wonders if she’s aware of the familiarity behind that single action. If at some level of unconsciousness, she remembers what they shared, if she remembers him. He’s been told is not going to happen, they said there was a reason why she forgot, why she blocked the memories._

 

 

_If she would remember, would she blame him as much as he blames himself? He failed to protect her, to protect them. In the end, and despite all his promises, he failed her and there’s nothing he can do about it. The mighty king was no more when he lost her. It might be a proper penance that he’s the one who can never forget._

_A part of him dies every time she asks him about his wife. He lies. He has lied on demand and without restrictions for so long. Sometimes he wishes the lies were true, maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much to have her so close knowing she would never be his._

 

 

_Galen walks quietly into the room, sleepy eyes and wringing hands, looking longingly at the sleeping figure half on top of him. It’s the first storm since they moved together and the look on the child tells him what he needs to know. He moves the covers and makes room for him. Lara’s eyes are open the moment she feels the movement. She smiles at Galen and caress his hair in the same soothing movement she used with him._

 

 

_Galen is a child who has been deprived of a childhood. Lara, even if she doesn’t remember, is a mother who was deprived of her child. He doesn’t deserve any of them; but as long as they want him, he would stay with them. As his eyes close he wonders if this could have been his life if things wouldn’t have gone so wrong._

_Maybe it’s not penance, but a second chance._

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*


	5. Chapter 5: Faux Concerns

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Alex has grown a reputation of being one of the most collected individual of his kind. That in itself was quite an accomplishment, considering how long he has lived and all the traumatic events that transpired during that time.

There had been a couple of occasions when his unruffled behaviour has failed, though no one has ever blamed him for losing control. Everyone has a limit and his people realized that he was at the end of his proverbial rope.

The current situation was not a trial on his tolerance, yet it was starting to get on his nerves. Alex's reputation of being the personification of composure was about to take a leave day.

Pale blue eyes find Sam's brown ones and the coldness he projects succeeded in causing the latter to choke on a mouthful of soda. He could have mellowed the effect, but ruffling Sam's feathers is so easy sometimes.

Galen looks worriedly at the younger man's choke attempt and asks if he's all right. He hasn't seen the smirk that almost betrayed his father's innocence façade. Alex is grateful for that.

Lara is giving him a knowing look that promises the kind of talk he usually avoids like the plague.

Alexander is well aware that lingering is not going to get him anywhere. It probably would only achieve making the female presence in his life more exasperated than she already is. He let out a suffered sigh and points to the barely noticeable form of a man dressed in a blue flannel checkered shirt.

"Samuel, you might want to invite your friend to have lunch with us. I suspect it would be far more comfortable than standing behind the trees." Alex doesn't even try to feign interest; the words are delivered with the effective coldness that is expected of someone in his position.

It's not that he doesn't like the younger human. Surprisingly, especially to him, he does. Samuel, despite his formative years, is a well-balanced person. His almost bipolar treatment of the younger Winchester is only justified by his own selfish motives. Sam's verbal stumbles whenever he catches him off-guard reminds him vividly of another man, a man he considered a brother, a man long time gone.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Sam Winchester feels like choking again as the full meaning of Alex's words is delivered to his brain. His mind reels with a world of possibilities of who he might find when he turns around. His father features prominently on the list and he honestly fights down the will to run away. John Winchester is someone whom he hopes to never introduce to the Rivers.

Resignedly, he turns around and prepares himself for a long retaliation of how much out of shape is he. How much he had forgotten of his training, that even a civilian could spot him before his own son. However, the words he's planning for his defence died on his lips when his eyes meet Bobby's.

"Bobby?" Relief. Sam's budging panic attack is lessening.

He can deal with whatever Bobby unleashes on him, though it has to be something of consequence to make the reclusive hunter leave his fortress of solitude. Alarms go off again in his mind. Was he always this prone to paranoia?

"Hello Sam."

Those are the only words that Bobby came up with, his mind is still rallying his brain cells to put forward something else that does not make him look like a total moron.

He's doing his best to let the notion that a civilian had caught him to get through his shocked state. It's a concept hard to comprehend.

A young man having a picnic has singled out Robert Singer. A young man, that Bobby is very tempted to call 'pretty-boy'. Because with looks that fall rather into the 'delicately beautiful' side than in the 'ruggedly handsome', there is really no other adequate description.

Lara waits for a minute, then waits another thirty seconds for good measure, and when no movement or words follow that short and awkward introduction she takes the matter in her hands.

"Well, Bobby, is that right? Would you like to join us for lunch?"

Alex raises an inquiring brow in her direction at the impromptu invitation. Lara expertly ignores him, she would have been happy to disregard Singer's presence and let him be, but of course, sometimes Alexander can't help being his own regal self. Well, Alex can start getting used to the idea that he will be sharing lunch with a hunter, a hunter wearing a trucker cap. And, isn't that just golden?

Her smile widens at Bobby, who seems to fluster even more. For some unknown reason, unknown to her at least, Alex abhors that particular clothing article. She is looking forward to having lunch and entertainment.

"Uh…I wouldn't like to intrude." Bobby was floundering, not knowing exactly what he could probably say to walk out of this with whatever is left of his dignity.

The young woman's mind is set on making him stay. Sam apparently is too awestruck to speak. The blond man is definitely giving him a condescending look, even when his eyes stray to his cap. And the child, he peers at him with inquiring emerald eyes partially hidden under irregular fringes of blond hair.

"Non sense. You're already here and there's enough food for another one. Specially since one of these reprobates has given my kid enough sugar to keep him hyped up for hours." Lara states the facts with deadly precision and gives him a dauntless look.

Bobby knew in that moment that he doesn't have any chance of winning the argument. He wonders what she does for a living. Rich people rarely work, but he gets the impression she would make a formidable, if terrifying, lawyer.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

The food was delicious, a welcomed change from his usual Chili at home or the dinners' food he endured while on road trips. It almost made up for having the most bizarre lunch experience of his life.

Eventually, Sam regained his wits and spent a good part of the conversation asking about people he hasn't seen since he left for college. Lara, the one who was not a lawyer, was the picture of a perfect host balancing her husband's dry remarks with intelligent barbs against them. Bobby learned she did have a job. Somehow, learning that she oversees the acquisitions and negotiations of the company's holding didn't come out entirely as a surprise.

Alexander had a regal air about him; it was clear in the way he moved and the way he talked that he was used to having power. Bobby felt there was something about the young man he was missing, something that should have been obvious. Rivers was civil enough, to the point that he had been on the verge of being polite. It didn't stop him, though, to make crystal clear to Bobby that he didn't appreciate stalkers. A subtle reprimand laced with non-threaten jibes at the hunter, but it was coldness in his eyes that told Bobby how serious the other man was.

Galen proved he had inhered more than just his parents' physical features. He teased Bobby at his ill attempt at spying with the dignified air of a princeling in training. He stated in a matter of fact voice that his father had a sixth-sense, much like a superhero, and his mother was the only who could take him by surprise.

The child also managed to successfully negotiate his way out of having lunch, his mother made him compromise in having an extremely healthy dinner. He had vehemently refused to comment about any candy consumption. Alex had rewarded him with a smirk and a hint of a smile. Lara had given him a look all females seemed to have encoded in their DNA, it was a look that promised the topic would be revisited before dinner.

The kid was extremely interested in his relationship with Sam. Bobby had felt oddly sheepish after hearing about the stories the child had been told.

Sam had skipped the gruesome details and supernatural references and still managed to make him look closer to a hero.

Galen Rivers seemed to be the typical child cherished by his parents and overall happy. Though, there has been something else, just lingering under that polished surface. Bobby hadn't missed the way the child had huddled against his mother, or the natural response as her arms had automatically encircled his thin frame. From the safety of a parent's embrace Galen asked a question the seasoned hunger had not been expecting.

Where was Sam's father when all those fascinating adventures happened?

The question floored him. He stuttered and almost choked. A child has just asked him about something that most grown-ups tended to ignore.

Where indeed had John Winchester been during his son's childhood?

Hunting, most of the time.

Consumed in his personal vengeance crusade.

Drunk at some seedy bar.

Bobby couldn't use any of those answers, regardless of their accuracy. He was aware of how much time Sam had spent at his house until he reached his teenage years, but never thought someone else would notice, less of it that a child would pay enough attention to figure it out.

Lara had seen his expression and declared that it was late and all of them had things that need to be done and deal with before the evening. Picnic supplies were gathered and placed back in a basket as the Rivers family prepares to leave the park.

As it happened before, something nagged at Bobby's subconscious. There was something he should remember.

Galen's disgruntled expression at being told that his fencing lessons would stop for the summer was hilarious. His fair hair caught the sunlight as they walked toward the exit and Bobby could have sworn he has seen this kid before.

All came back to him as he watched Galen and Sam talk about which superhero should get a revamped movie franchise now. Galen Rivers looked like the only picture he had of Dean Winchester.

A picture Bobby carries in his wallet ever since he found out about the kid.

This child is older than the two-dimension image he keeps with him, but nowhere near the age he should have after seventeen years. There are small differences, Galen's skin is paler, the hair is lighter, but that's all. Bobby feels compelled to find out the truth.

Galen couldn't be Dean, that much was obvious, but then who was Galen Rivers? Better yet, what exactly was Galen?

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

The silver white pendant around Bobby's neck is not just another forgotten talisman from his supernatural collection. It's a family heirloom from his mother's side, one that was passed to the first daughter. His mother was not the first to make an exception and bestow it on a son instead of a daughter. She said it would protect him, for it was magical and had the power to show that, which is hidden.

He never truly believed it. Decades had to pass until he learned that his mother was actually right. The white metal of her pendant was not a cheap silver alloy. It was something entirely different. How did his mother's line get hold of iridium? And, more importantly, for how long did it stay with her family?

If Galen was not the type of creature he suspected, then there would be no reaction. If the opposite came to happen, he would grab Sam and run for the hills. Not the finest plan ever designed, but one made at the time of need. He was running out of time, the gates are already visible.

Bobby holds the pendant in his fist; it is the only thing he has left from his mother. He would rather not part of it, but he needs to make sure that Sam is safe with these people.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

"My mother gave me this when I was a child of your age. Sam was never fond of pendants and as the number of children I met has reduced exponentially I would like for you to keep it."

Bobby opens his hand and let the pendant fall into the stretched palm of the child. Galen looks at him curiously, closes his hand around the pendant and thanked him for the unexpected gift. Sam is watching suspiciously at him, he would tell him later.

Robert Singer holds his breath and wait.

He's not sure if he wants for something to happen anymore, Sam looks happier, more at ease than he had ever seen him. Does he really want to take that away from him?

All his expectation had been for naught. The result of this nerve-wrecking test was nil. Galen stares at the pendant, silver with a yellowish cast, he puzzles out loud over the type of metal. Someone replies before Bobby has the chance.

"It's iridium Gal. It's quite rare, most of the time it is found in meteors. They named it after a goddess, we can look for it later".

Lara smiles and places it over his head. The worn-out leather cord is too large for the ten-year old and would need to be replaced. The shiny piece of metal falls on top of the navy blue t-shirt and Galen brushes his thumb against it.

She smiles at the proud look in his green eyes, she knows Galen feels a little special, at being gifted something that had an emotional value for the old hunter. Her hand tousles his hair in a practiced movement, as expected the boy jumps out of reach in a mock of indignation. The charade lasts a few seconds as he gives her a brilliant smile and runs away to catch up with his father and Sam. They seem to be immersed in an argument about Christian Bale as the new batman.

Lara turns slightly and gives Bobby a look that forebodes nothing good for the hunter.

"A word Mr. Singer?" The lighthearted tone from lunch is gone, her words are clipped and Bobby can hear the restrained anger laced with them.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Robert Singer suppressed the urge to physically brace himself. The expression in the eyes of Lara Rivers was half disapproving and half unadulterated rage. It was a less than desirable combination.

"What did you expect to prove with that little experiment of yours? Think very carefully the answer you are going to give to me Mr. Singer."

Her voice didn't rise or quiver with emotions, her eyes on the other hand became empty and Bobby felt that if he stared at her eyes for long he would lose himself in them.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about." The first lesson he learned after becoming a hunter was that you never admit the truth. Honesty could very well get him a one-way ticket to the white padded room.

Lara raised an eyebrow as if she was not evaluating the veracity of his words, but the fact that he had actually told them. There's a hint of incredulity in the way her head sides to the right when looking at him.

"Are you attempting to lie to me? I may not be a hunter Mr. Singer, though that does not mean that I ignore what your merry band of psychopaths do. In case you haven't noticed Galen is a child, my child. If you put him in harm's way, even if that was not your original intention, I will make the expression 'hell to pay' quite realistic to you."

There was an unfaltering conviction in her words and Bobby became aware that she was talking about more than mere law demands. Whoever these people really were, they certainly knew more than enough about him and his. It was pointless to keep denying what he did; maybe, he could try explaining his reasons.

"He looks like someone else. Another kid, a kid who died years ago." He was uncertain about telling her that the kid was Sam's older brother. He didn't want to make her suspect that Sam knew anything at all.

"Dean Winchester died in a hospital seventeen years ago. Your life, Mr. Singer, would be much easier if you accept that fact. Nothing brings back the dead, nor power or money."

Bobby felt as if something pulled the comfortable rug he had been standing on. There were only a handful of people who knew about Dean. How could people like the Rivers know about it? Why would they care about it?

It was a visceral reaction on his part, it really was, so when he muttered 'Christus' and the only reaction he got was an offended look he was not really that surprised. Nothing he has tried to do since he met this family has worked like he wanted.

"Do you seriously think I am a demon? Honestly! Your people have been doing 'this' for their whole lives? I have to admit I'm genuinely surprised that your lot is still alive and kicking. Your organization must have been born under an extremely lucky star. Or it might have been your side who made a deal with your devil."

That was certainly not the reaction Bobby Singer, seasoned hunter, was expecting. He could feel that Lara and the rest of the Rivers, Galen included, were far more than what they appeared. He didn't know what they were hiding, not yet. At the moment his curiosity focused on a different topic.

"You knew about Dean. But how?"

Bobby was sure at this point that the only thing that stopped her from whacking him in the back of the head was a life of social protocol.

"Do I look like a half-wit to you? Do you believe I would allow an unknown lawyer student befriend my son without doing a full check up on him? I hope you realized that Galen is ten years old and Sam is twenty-two. Don't you think I found odd that a young man suddenly finds himself gravitating around my son?"

He can't really argue with her reasons and when he took them into consideration, he might even agree that his question was a tad moronic. What was the meaning of all of this? The Rivers had obviously known about Dean, despite that, they had allowed Sam access to their son. A child who could have been the twin of a dead boy, unless...

"Did Dean really die in that hospital?"

She was looking at him in that evaluating way that made him feel he was certainly inadequate. As if he would never fulfil whatever expectations she had.

"Dean Winchester died in a hospital. Though, you do know that Dean was not a Winchester, don't you?"

Bobby felt that he was missing a monumental piece of information, and if he could find it he would figure out the whole thing. The way she made emphasis on Dean not being a Winchester was his only clue.

"Reading the background report of a person, would never provide all the information needed to make a decision. It does help, but there's nothing like firsthand experience. I don't know you Mr. Singer. I don't know your motives and so far my opinion of you is less than flattering. Why should I give you the answers you seek? What had you done to deserve them?"

Bobby knew that all bets were off; he would not be able to run circles around her, she was much better at that than him. He doubted he would have more success trying to outmanoeuvre her, she had the upper hand since they met. Violence would get him nowhere.

What could a man do when all his resources have become ineffective? He can only hope for the best.

"I care about that young man as if he would my son. I have seen him grow up from a shy boy into the man he is today. I'm proud of him as only a father could be. There's nothing I won't do to keep him safe. He doesn't know about Dean, he was told he was not real. If I go against you I might not win, but I need your word that not you nor your husband will cause him harm."

He watched as her posture relaxed, her stance is still on guard, but the fire on her eyes is almost gone. He could see what he missed before, she looks stressed, tired. There is a trace of dark shadows colouring the fair skin under her eyes. He didn't understand how he missed it when she was sitting right in front of him.

"You all have such a fragile memory, time is not considerate to your kind. You have lost so much knowledge in the name of the self-serving nature of men. If you go against me, you will fail. It's not a promise, but a fact. However, I can ease your mind on one thing. No harm will befall onto Samuel by my kind or me. I can give you my word on that."

Bobby felt he could breathe again. He closed his eyes for a moment, relief coursing through him. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, though he doubted she would give him an answer. She had already told him, he didn't deserve them, not yet.

The smell of rain and leaves surrounded him and he felt comforted, in peace.

"Hunter, you should brush up on your history. We had an agreement, your kind and mine. Long time ago we fought together towards the same goal. Learn all that you can and then, then we might talk. Who knows, I might answer a question or two."

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Bobby opens his eyes expecting to see her right beside him, but she's not there anymore. He looks around only to find Sam staring worriedly at him from the entrance gate, the young Winchester is thirty meters away from where he stands.

A black sleek car is parked in front of Sam, the window of the back-seat is down and Lara Rivers offers him a polite smile. He narrows his eyes and catches a glimpse of golden hair. Galen.

The first thing he's going to do after talking with Sam is calling Jim Murphy. He might be the best at supernatural lore, but Jim always had a knack for history.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

"It has started."

"We always knew this day would come."

"We did, though knowledge doesn't make it easier. He is still so young."

"And we would do everything in our power to keep him safe. We have taught him well. He is as ready as he could be."

"Do you think it would have been better for him, if…if I wouldn't have arrived on time? If he wouldn't have to relive this all over again."

"He was alone the first time. Now he has us, and we would protect him."

"I do wonder if Calahen ever thought this could happen when he chose to bond with a mortal."

"We'll never know. Foresight was not his strongest gift."

"Neither is yours."

"Future is in constant motion Lara, I don't believe in living my life thinking on only one possibility."

"Fair enough my king."

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

to be continued…


	6. Chapter 6: Counterfeit Parent Figures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> Sam and Bobby finally talk, and a trip is scheduled.   
> Coffee is a must and Charlie Lister knows all about it, he also knows a bit about Sam. (aka meet a new character)  
> Tommy is a firm believer that friends would be friends, even when you want to knock some sense into them. (aka meet another new character)  
> Some marriages are more complicated than others. (aka Alex and Lara's have issues)  
> Sam gets an interesting proposal. (aka Alex can behave when the time is right)  
> Galen makes a brief appearance

"The answer is no. I don't even understand why we are having this conversation. You were always interested in keeping me away from that world, why are you asking me to go back?"

 

Sam's mind is at loss as he tries to process everything he has been told. He isn't pretending ignorance when he asks Bobby why it was he who was delivering the news. Sam refuses to believe the older hunter wants him back in that life, at least not without powerful reasons. Earthshaking reasons.

 

His father is missing. It is not that he doesn't care, despite the fact that John is far from being an average good parent, not even adequate really, Sam does care about him. John Winchester shouldn't have been allowed to have children to begin with, but he did and there was nothing Sam could do to change that. He cares, regardless if it is instinct or a learned behaviour, he simply does not care enough to leave everything behind.

 

Considering the situation he half-expected Caleb dropping at his place unannounced and at an ungodly hour or at college in the middle of a class, in both cases he would be demanding that he joins in this crazy hunt of his. Caleb is not a bad person per se; in fact, the main trouble he has with the younger hunter is his constant need to emulate John Winchester. No one in his right mind should use his father as a role model, doing it is simply the recipe for disaster.

 

Sam had always thought Caleb was the son John Winchester always wanted. The son Samuel would never be.

 

Caleb Morgan was another constant during his childhood, the lanky teenager apprentice who followed the great John Winchester around and became part of his family in order to learn the ropes of the life as a hunter.

He was an orphan who survived the system and decided by the time he was seventeen that he was done with it. He appeared one evening at the doorstep of their dingy motel room demanding his father to train him.

 

Sam always felt grateful for the unexpected arrival of the 'teenager with an attitude' as John decided to call him. Despite that the two of them rarely agreed on a thing and Caleb felt the need to act like an older brother and annoy the hell out of him, he liked him. Caleb played a fundamental part in Sam's life while growing up, he kept John's attention away from him and that certainly got him enough leverage with Sam.

 

All the internal musing and analysis didn't help much; he was back at the beginning, Caleb's presence he could understand. Bobby's on the other hand is giving him a headache.

 

Why does he need to go in the first place? Caleb is more skilled to carry out this search and rescue mission on by himself. Sam's help is not needed and he is certainly not offering it either.

 

He hasn't done anything remotely close to hunting since he left for college, the only thing he would do for Caleb is to hinder his advance. Everybody seems to conveniently forget that despite growing up with John Winchester Sam certainly never shared his father's joy for killing sprees, and that he seriously lacks the experience needed. Hadn't they always told him that the newcomers in a hunt have a tendency to end up dead very quickly?

 

"Sam, this is not a permanent thing, you know me better than that, I would never ask or force you to do something you obviously don't want to do."

Well, that's exactly the reason of Sam's current headache, which seems to have true aspirations of becoming a migraine in the near future.

 

"Then explain it to me, because right now I'm a bit confused. Why are we even having this conversation Bobby?"

Sam's voice sounds restrained. It takes effort, a lot of effort, but he promised himself ages ago that he wouldn't be like John. He's not going to raise his voice and start a shouting match. He's going to listen and think, and only then he would take a decision. He can't help but dread the reply he might get, because this is Bobby, and he has grown up with the notion that Bobby Singer is rarely wrong.

 

"Last time he called he mentioned that he got a lead on the thing that killed your mom. I could be wrong, but my instinct is telling me that this is important."

One single sentence and suddenly everything makes sense. Bobby wouldn't decide to play devil's advocate for something less, he should have thought of it. John Winchester has been obsessed with finding whatever it was that killed his wife for the last two decades and it seems that finally he's on the right track.

Sam should feel excited, moved, something else than the indifference he's feeling right now. The problem is, he doesn't.

 

"You know, it's almost ironic. I don't remember her. I have never seen a picture of her, and he hardly spoke about her. My mother is a complete stranger, but I have been aware of his obsession with her death since I was able to think for myself. I never really thought this day would come, and know I have to go looking for him."

 

"Sam…"

Bobby's voice is soft, merely a whisper, it's a tone Sam only hears whenever the older hunter is trying to comfort him without really knowing how to accomplish it. It's a voice that never failed to soothe him. He's probably a despicable human being but he asks whoever is listening why he couldn't be Samuel Singer instead of Samuel Winchester.

 

"Did I say something that was not true?"

Bobby takes his time to formulate his reply. Sam knows the hunter has realized this is the closing argument and he would need to counter his words.

 

"No, you're completely right Sam. John is not a going to win an award for being a good father in this life. The thing is, he's your father. You might not have chosen him, but he's the only one you have. It doesn't matter that I care about you as if you were my son, I'm not the real thing, he is."

He has to give it to Bobby; the man could have been an unbeatable lawyer if he had wanted to, he has perfected the timing of how and when to deliver the right words. He wonders if Bobby has figured out he was the reason he chose law school, Sam never really explained it and he thinks he should have.

 

"If you would be the one missing, I would have been on the road already."

Bobby smiles at Sam's words. The way he looks at Sam is the way a proud father would look at his son. He has seen the look plenty of times in the faces of his school friends' parents when he was younger, and he sees it quite often in Alex's face whenever he looks at Galen.

 

"I'm glad to know that, though I hope you would never have to do it."

Sam nods at the older hunter in acceptance. The ghost of a smile makes a brief appearance in his face. He knows he would leave with Bobby in the morning. He also knows that he would do everything in his power to be back as soon as humanly possible.

 

Things are not all right, far from it, his life once again is being directed by John's decisions. He feels the control he thought he had over his existence is slipping underneath his fingers, thread by thread. He's at the edge of the precipice, one wrong move and it would be over.

 

He would not blame Bobby, he just delivered the message in the less traumatic way he could think of and he is not the one who has lived his life fuelled on revenge for the past two decades. He would not blame Caleb, the eager apprentice who idolizes his father and thinks there's some strange sense of honour and duty bounding father and son. Sam will place the blame where it rightfully belongs, and the next time he sees his father he's going to make it clear that he's done with it.

 

"I get it Bobby, this is important. I might not like it, but I get it. It's just, it's not fair."

There's a hint of desperation in his voice, the final acceptance that no matter how much distance he puts between his father and his life it would never be enough. John Winchester always manages to come back, much like the cockroach after the nuclear explosion.

 

"It will not be a one-way ticket Sam. I take you there and I will bring you back here, I'll get you back home."

Sam listens to Bobby's words and he genuinely wants to believe in them. He wants to imagine that it would be like a road-trip, and at the end he would go back home.

It is what New York has become in these months, a place he could call home.

 

"Did Galen tell you that his birthday is tomorrow?"

He watches Bobby as he fights down the impulse to wince at the news. Sam is not exactly proud of the verbal jab, but he needs to make sure that Bobby knows he has ties with people in this city, he has friends and a life he's not willing to leave behind.

 

"No he didn't, but we didn't talk that much and I'm an old man, practically a stranger."

The corner of Sam's lips lift slightly in a smile at Bobby's admission of his age.

 

"He turns ten tomorrow. I promised him I would attend the 'festivities'. Don't give me that look those were his words not mine. Do you think that maybe the saying is accurate? After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Bobby gives him a look of disbelief, but Sam has thought about it. John missed his tenth birthday by four days and when he made an appearance it was quite obvious the man had been socializing heavily with Johnny and Jose. It's probably one of the reasons he hates the smell of whiskey and tequila, it's linked with the memory of the day John burned and decimated the bridge between them.

If he ever decides to go to a psychologist, Sam suspects he would be in therapy for the rest of his life.

 

"Idjit, you are nothing like your father."

Sam smiles and wishes that could be true, but he knows better than to lie to himself about it. He's not that blind to ignore some Winchester's traits in his character. He's stubborn and he's been known to be a bit more judgemental than his peers. He tries to stop himself whenever he realizes he's going that way, tries to remember that the world is not black and white but a palette of gray shades. Some days he succeeds, some others he doesn't, and he feels more Winchester than Campbell.

 

He is Sam Campbell for the Rivers. He's not sure why he introduced himself with her mother's maiden name in the first place and by the time he realized what he has done there was no way to go back. He's Campbell for college too. He decided that it would be fine, because he's in a new city working on getting himself a new life as well and a new last name is only fitting.

He's not ashamed of being a Winchester, he simply wanted to forget the connotations that were linked with the word.

 

"We could leave after the party, Caleb hasn't made it there yet anyway."

They could, but it would only delay the inevitable. He should go and see Galen, explain why he would be missing his party and probably be glared to death by Alex, and maybe Lara.

 

"It wouldn't change a thing Bobby. I can't shake this feeling that the moment we leave something is going to change in a very drastic way."

Sam is not lying when he says those words. Disaster has a tendency of looming around him, he could almost feel it breathing down his neck. Things are about to change and he fears that it won't be for good.

 

"I'm sorry Sam."

He knows that, even if it's not Bobby's fault.

 

"I know."

A part of Sam always knew he was living on borrowed time and now, now the time is almost over.

 

"Sam…"

 

"Don't worry Bobby. I'll be back later and we would leave tomorrow. Just as it was planned."

Sam doesn't turn around as he leaves his apartment. He misses the concerned look on Bobby's face because he doesn't want to let Bobby see the betrayed looks he's certain he's sporting.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Charlie Lister is at the age when one of the few sports you can keep practising is 'people watching'. He has an advantaged, being the owner of a coffee shop makes sure that he never runs out of people to watch. Some are lonely and thoughtful, some are vibrant and colourful, some are looking for company and some already found it. He sees many things but always pay special attention to the people who has become closer to him. Samuel Campbell is one of them.

 

Charlie doesn't know exactly what did Sam left when he decided to move to NY, it had to be something uncommon, as there's no other possible explanation for the way the younger man strives so hard to fit in. Sam is observant; he pays attention to the details and copies almost perfectly the mannerisms and expressions. He keeps a low profile and tries to go unnoticed; however, his success truly depends on the people that surround him. It can't be helped. Sam is too tall to go completely unnoticed.

 

Charles Lister was a renowned neurosurgeon, he had money and prestige, a wife and a brilliant child, and when that was not enough he got himself a mistress and then cheated on her as well. His life crumbled down the day his wife and child died, a car accident, a drunk driver and suddenly he was alone. Nothing mattered after that. It was too late to be a better husband, to be the father he should have been. Time can be cruel, but is the memories the ones that kill you in the end. Lister is a recovered alcoholic and he's been sober for twelve years. He owns a coffee shop that he named after the love of his life. His life is full of regrets, he has tried to clean up the trail of destruction he left but some things cannot be fixed. He's aware of all that and accepts it.

 

Samuel Campbell intrigued him from the very first moment he walked into his coffee shop. The interest was only increased as he became a regular and a slow friendship was started, but it probably reached the zenith when he walked into his coffee shop with Galen Rivers by his side.

 

It's highly entertaining to watch the pair interact with each other, there's more than a decade between them, in spite of that they manage quite easily to have fluid conversations peppered with witty comments from Galen. It's almost as if they are family, which could be a possibility, Charlie is half convinced the Rivers have unofficially adopted Sam into their family. It's obvious to everyone but Sam, who does a great job of brushing-off the kind of power the Rivers family has as their disposal.

 

Charlie usually describes Sam Campbell as a gentle giant, a smart man, polite and trustworthy. Most of the time, Sam is exactly like that. The description, however, becomes unfitting if he perceives any sort of threat against the child. Sam has proved to be frightfully protective of Galen Rivers, almost to the point of idiocy.

 

It might be because he pays attention to all of these little details that he knows that something is wrong with the young man. His posture is not much different from the usual, slouched in his chair pretending to be careless, and Charlie swears that before meeting him he never thought a person could slouch that much without causing permanent damage to his spinal cord.

 

Sam is usually good at this game of pretence, but not today. The boy likes coffee, but today he's holding the bloody cup as if his life depends on it.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Sam stares at the street lost in his thoughts, he has been staring since he sat down with his favourite coffee, looking but not seeing. The coffee has gone cold, the last sip he took was lukewarm and when that happened the sun was still visible. Now the light of the afternoon has dimmed and got replaced by the lights from the street and the stores. He's thinking too much and too little at the same time.

 

Like an afterthought he notices a figure getting closer to him and then the sound of the chair against the wooden floor, he knows someone has sat across from him but he can't muster the energy to care about it.

 

"What troubles you young Samuel? It has to be something of great importance for you to waste a cup of perfectly brewed coffee."

Charlie's voice pulls him back to the present, teasing him with a touch of sarcasm and a hint of concern. Sam knows better than to attempt brushing off the question

 

"Is it that obvious?"

Charlie harrumphs at his question and gave him a look that conveys his opinion about the answer to such enquiry.

 

"Sam, I'm old and I own a coffee shop. People-watching is an age-appropriate hobby for me."

Sam sighs feeling slightly defeated, it seems the last of the day is not going to cooperate with him, not even with the smallest things.

 

"My father is missing. I might need to leave the city in order to go looking for him."

Charlie nods in acknowledgement and motion for him to continue. Sam realizes he's never talked about his family to anyone since he moved to the city. Charlie doesn't know the kind of sorry excuse of a father he got saddled with and he's no longer sure he wants to share that information.

 

"Are you planning to come back afterwards?"

Sam has asked himself the same question countless times since he walked out of his apartment. He's still wondering what would be final answer.

 

"That's the plan, though… plans and John don't tend to go along unless he's the one calling out the shots."

Charlie pats him on the shoulder and call on Claire. Sam doesn't need to ask what he would be having; he learned months ago that Charlie only drinks tea after four. It might as well be the reason Abby's has the largest selection of tea blends he has ever seen in a coffee shop.

 

"Well then, I guess the foreboding mood implies that you are leaving soon. Am I right?"

Sam nods and takes a sip of his cold macchiato. It's not horrible taste, but it has nothing with the richness of flavours it had when it was fresh.

 

"Tomorrow, early morning. I'm going with the approach that if I leave soon, I'll back sooner."

 

"You would miss Gal's birthday party. Did you know I have been invited? I'm not sure what prompted the child to do so, but invited I have been."

There's a prideful glint in the old man's eyes as he said it. Sam wonders if the Rivers talk with him in that language of theirs, he hard Charlie spoke in something that sounded closed to it.

 

"You should go and see him. Galen would be more understanding of your absence if you take time to explain it to him. I get the feeling the kid dislikes phones as much as his father does."

Sam has seen the rebellious look on the child's face when a mobile goes off, he doesn't care about of the world using them unless it happens to his family. Galen hates phones on principle; a phone call usually means one of his parents needs to leave. Sam has listened to enough snippets of conversations to know that something of major importance is about to happen in the world of the Rivers. Lara and Alex had started to rely more on the people around them to look after Galen, even the child has noticed pattern.

 

"It's almost ten. He's most likely asleep or about to go to sleep."

Charlie's head moves in agreement, though the sparkle in his eyes tells Sam that he's about to counter his argument.

 

"I'm sure Lara and Alex would make an exception. Go, you would keep ruining my coffee. Chop-chop Sam."

Sam can't really help the smile that is already forming on his face. It's a terrible idea to go against Charlie when he gives you that look, it says 'I've seen the world, I know what I'm talking about, don't waste my time arguing.' He raises his arm in respectful salute before walking to the door, cold coffee forgotten on the table and renewed energy to face the world.

As the door of the coffee shop closes softly and the sounds of the street reach him, he realizes that he hadn't told Charlie anything new about his life.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

It's half past ten by the time Sam makes it to the Rivers' penthouse. He's been there enough times that the concierge simply nods in his direction and allows him entrance. No questions are asked, no request for ID, he realizes that at this point most of the people living there assume he is a close friend of the family.

 

The ride in the elevator feels longer than it usually does. He watches as the numbers change in the panel and question the intelligence of this visit. Not only it is late in the night, his visit is also unexpected. The doors slide open and now he's there, the door just a couple of steps away from him.

 

He stands in front of the massive door and tries to clear his head. He stops when his right hand is poised to ring the bell when his conscience tells him this is anything but a good idea. His finger however has developed a mind of its own and the button is pressed before he can react. He glances at the elevator, it's still there and if he runs he could get in, then get down and die of embarrassment in the safety of his apartment.

Sam takes a step back and is about to turn around when the door opens.

 

"Tommy?"

Tommy Valmont is Alexander's best friend and word on the street says that both of them have been tick as thieves since they were in pre-school. Valmont also works with the Rivers into some joint business ventures, but most important than that is the fact that Tommy is Galen's godfather and unofficial caretaker whenever both parents are engaged with work. Sam got to know him pretty well in these last months.

 

Tommy seems surprised with his presence, if he takes the slight rise of an eyebrow as a surprised gesture, but nonetheless moves in order to let him walk into the apartment.

 

"Sam, it's a bit late for visiting Galen. I was under the impression you spent a good part of the day with him."

There's no reproach in his voice. Originally, Tommy was supposed to be part of trip to the park, but a call from his own company made it impossible for him to join. Sam thinks it was probably for the best considering that Bobby ended up crashing on their picnic. Tommy is a good guy, but he's not sure if Bobby would have survived and introduction to the kind of craziness that Tommy Valmont is.

 

"I did. Something came up and I would rather explain than leave things to be, any chance the kid is still up?"

Tommy's head move in denial as he leads him to the kitchen. Sam realizes this is one of the few occasions when he had seen the other man wearing something else than business suits. Somehow, the sockets with the green one-eyed aliens seem to be 100% Valmont.

 

"Sorry, you're out of luck. Galen was fast asleep by nine. He spent most of the afternoon pestering Alex about practising katas. It seems he has decided that he will master them, unless the fencing lessons are back in his weekly schedule. Do you know anything about it?"

Sam laughs and accepts the glass of water he has been given without asking for it. Valmont always seems to know what a person needs to drink with a single look. One day he served him a tequila shot the moment he saw him, he hadn't needed to explain that his ex-girlfriend drunk dialled him at 3:00 am and guilt-tripped him into rethinking his life choices.

 

"I might be the one to blame. I voiced some concerns about deranged parents and lessons to behead people."

Tommy smirks and Sam grins in reply. It's quite easy to get along with him, probably because they're closer in age, though it doesn't seem to apply with Alex who is supposed to be a year younger than Tommy.

 

"I don't know if you're a brave man or certified insane. Alex is touchy about the subject, his dad was way better than mine but still not what you could have wished for a parent."

Sam sobers instantly, because he never really thought about it. He assumed that both Alex and Lara had fairy tales lives until the moment they met and decided to begin a wonderful story of their own. There is nothing to say that these two did not have screwed up childhoods like he does, though he's not planning on asking.

 

"I…I honestly did not think about the implications."

Tommy brushes of his worries with a smile, the fact that it doesn't reach his eyes speak volumes and Sam has the need of kicking himself.

 

"Life is a trial whether you have a dollar or a billion, but rest assured no real harm has been done."

This is uncharted territory, it has to be because Tommy Valmont sounds and looks serious and Sam has never seen him like that before. Valmont is the easy-going one, the womaniser and consumed bachelor whom loves his godson to death but would probably never become a parent himself. Right now, Tommy looks like Alex does and Sam desperately needs to change the topic.

 

"Where is the golden couple? I might as well talk with them, explain everything...I won't be able to come to the party."

Tommy's left hand stops in mid-air, the glass of scotch is quickly placed back on the isle and he motions Sam to follow him.

 

"You do know that Galen is going to be disappointed if he doesn't hear this explanation straight from you. Right?"

Sam rubs his face tiredly. He knows, he really does. He is also convinced that asking the parents of a ten-year-old to wake him up in the middle of the night is probably not the best idea, but he has to try.

 

"I'm expecting to be yelled at, or the silent treatment. I don't know which one would be worse."

 

"Probably none. Galen doesn't yell, but he gives you this disappointed look as if you had failed humanity and are possibly the worst type of human being in existence. He might growl at you. He sounded like an annoyed kitten the last time I seriously messed up."

Sam appreciates the humour and wonders if Galen would give him another chance.

 

There's a huge difference between getting angry with family members and strangers. He falls into the second category; regardless of the amount of trust the family has placed on him it doesn't change the fact that his last name is Campbell, or Winchester, not Rivers or Valmont.

 

That is one of the things that nag at his conscience from time to time. He couldn't be more different from the Rivers even if he tried; nevertheless, he has been given free entrance to their home and their son.

He really needs to stop getting lost in his own mind.

 

"I get the feeling you have been on the end of that look more than once."

Tommy snickers at his comment and raise his hand in a cheering motion.

 

"I'd known the kid since he was a half pint. Given my track record I'm unabashedly proud I haven't screwed up more."

They had gone through a flight of stairs and Sam has barely noticed the turns they made in order to get in front of the closed sliding doors. Galen had mentioned the gym a couple of times, he guesses that's where they are and his suspicious are confirmed when Tommy slides one side open and walks in.

 

The size of the room is absurd. His whole apartment fits inside of their gym. He can see some exercise machines spread around; one of the walls displays a collection of swords that probably costs more than all his education so far. On the other side there's a similar display but instead of swords there are arrows and bows, knives and daggers. Bobby would be in heaven studying each of the items he can see in this room.

 

Sam has been so absorbed by the weapons that he missed the fact that his guide has stopped moving and bumps into the other man. Tommy gives him an amused look and gestures for him to keep silent.

 

Sam recognizes the movements instantly. He has seen them earlier today, but this is by far a more complicated version than the one he Galen used on him.

 

They both have swords that look quite sharp to be just for show. The sound of clashing metal follows a certain rhythm. The motions are precise and elegant, even when they're trying to behead each other. More like a fight it looks like a very elaborated dance. Advance, retreat, parry, riposte and start all over again.

 

They keep getting closer, each one looking for the opening to get the upper hand. Their movements mesmerize Sam and it is difficult not to be when it's obvious both of them have spent years practising to reach this level. A sigh leave his lips almost involuntarily.

 

Alex's eyes stray away from Lara for a fraction of a second, he doesn't even turn around but that's enough for her to use that minuscule error in her favour.

 

It all happens too fast for Sam to comprehend. Her foot connects with the back of Alex's knee and the next thing he knows is that Lara is straddling her husband and has a sword against his neck.

 

She failed to notice that his sword is pressing softly against her back. Both of them are looking at each other and Sam gets the impression they're about to start a completely different kind of fight.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Lately, Thomas Valmont has been wondering if Alex Rivers has a masochist side he has never been aware of. It is preposterous to believe that Alex is unaware of his actions and the reactions he's getting, not after all that have happened before, not after the hell he went through. He's aware, yet for some reason instead of a strategic withdraw he keeps moving forward. The thin, almost invisible, line that holds everything together is getting blurred and he doesn't seem to care.

 

Tommy is worried, the doctors are rattled, the board is about to go in full panic attack, and Alex is pretending to be the poster child for innocence. The latter is an oxymoron, there are a lot of adjectives to describe Alex and none of them is inexperienced.

It feels like seeing a train wreck in progress, Alex apparently powerless to stop himself and Lara gravitating towards the edge.

 

A part of him understands somewhat where his friend is coming from. He knows he wouldn't have been able to accomplish half of the things Alex has managed to get done under the same circumstances. His friend has always been resilient, he had to in order to survive the demands and expectations everyone put on him, but apparently something's gotta give.

 

Alex is playing with fire and Tommy fears the consequences, the downfall and the disaster it would leave behind, but most of it he is terrified about the possibility that one of his friends might not get through it.

 

Someone has to be level-headed individual and put things back into perspective, because for crying out loud, they are about to jump each other regardless of the audience.

 

His palm slams against the door, perhaps with more force than it was necessary, and clears his throat, loudly, in case they decide to continue ignoring their reluctant onlookers. His success is partial.

 

Lara turns her body slightly, twisting her torso to look at the two people standing by the wall and while she successfully breaks the eye contact with Alex her new position presses her further on top of the body underneath her in order to keep her balance.

 

Tommy is almost positive that what he just heard was a male groan and he wants to douse both of them with icy water and his mind toys with the idea of activating the fire alarm just to cool them down, however, regardless of how appealing is that image he doubts they would find it amusing. Self-preservation wins over amusement and he decides to go with the diplomatic route.

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Lara ignores Tommy's pointed look with expertise born out of practice. She loves the guy; nonetheless, she knows Tommy Valmont is a bit of a worrywart when it comes to Alex. She removes the blade from its precarious position and places it on the floor, still she doesn't move herself. Her attention is back on the blond she's currently pinning against the floor.

 

"I won. We do this my way."

Alex raises an eyebrow in defiance, the tip of his sword presses softly against her column reminding her that it might no be the case. The angle of his blade could have caused the type of internal bleeding that is almost impossible to stop, if this wouldn't be part of a training session she could have ended up death and they are both aware of it.

 

"I agreed to that only if you defeated me without compromising yourself."

Lara replaces the sword to its previous position and smiles sweetly at him. Challenge is written all over her expression.

 

"I could have killed you before you had time to do it."

Alex places his free hand on her left hipbone tracing idle circles at a slow pace. The sword against her back doesn't move an inch. Whoever said that men could not multi-task has never heard of him.

 

"Perhaps. It doesn't change the fact you wouldn't have survived either."

They look at each other and it feels like it was before, when a look between them was a whole conversation on itself. This one feels more like an argument, but Alex has learned to live with the changes, he takes what he can and hopes for the best.

 

Tommy apparently has had enough of the couple's antics, his voice is deep and echoes in the room.

"You two, behave!"

 

Alex laughs at the rebellious look on Lara, she doesn't fully understand the reason of their friend's anxiousness and he's not going to enlighten her, not yet. She removes the sword again but she's still straddling him, something he would never complain about. It's probably the closest they have been in a long time and most likely the closest they would ever be. He leaves his own sword on the floor as well and because he doesn't know what else to do with his freed hand he places it on her other hipbone, if she notices she doesn't show it. Her attention is no longer on him.

 

"Lighten up Tommy. I would never hurt him."

 

Alex smiles at her reply and clears his throat. She looks down at him and seems to realize the position she is in, has been for the last minutes. She looks disoriented for a second, eyes taking that faraway look he has learned to hate, although it clears up as fast as it came and her body is leaving his. A hand is offered, both of them know he doesn't need it, but maybe neither of them want to let go so soon.

 

Conversation usually goes into the awkward realm after these encounters. He doesn't trust himself not to say the things he wishes for instead of the ones he should.

 

She fights down the need to ask the unreasonable questions that run wildly in her head, it's foolish, and he is her best friend, and she is not her, and talking about this, whatever it is, would only make things troublesome for them.

 

"Good match." She has managed two words, she's almost proud of herself.

 

"Likewise, you still have a mean kick." Safe topic has been found, he just need to stick to the technical details and things would go back to normal.

 

"I told you I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She can't help it. It's in her nature to be independent. The whole training session took place because of his refusal to agree to something both of them know, the fact that she's more than capable of protecting herself.

 

"You did, but worrying about you is my prerogative." It has been, it is and it would probably be until the day he dies.

They look at each other and a smile ends up in their faces. They agree to disagree. There's no need to external interference to bring them back to the present this time. Lara moves towards the door, nods at Sam's direction and ignores Tommy presence.

 

"I'm off to take a shower. Campbell, I know you own a watch so there better be a very good reason for this impromptu visit of yours. Galen is grouchy when he doesn't have enough sleep, consider yourself warned."

She's gone before Sam could think of a reply. Tommy is almost running after her talking in that melodic tongue they use among themselves. He hasn't been able to figure out what language it is. It took a moment to realize that he has been left alone with Alex.

 

"I know it's late and I'm sorry. I would have come tomorrow, but I don't think I'll be here by then. Something unexpected happened and I need to go to California. I will miss Galen's party."

Sam had kept his eyes firmly fixed in the wooden floor, when his eyes look up he sees what he missed. It's a sight he hasn't seen before.

Alexander Rivers, a man he hasn't seen with a hair out-of-place since he met him, looks almost scruffy. At this very moment Rivers doesn't look as forbidding as he usually does, he actually looks closer to Sam's own age, even younger if he considers that all the Rivers seems to have slender body structures.

 

The fading logo on the Rolling Stones t-shirt paired up with the worn out jeans with aesthetically placed holes made him reconsider his original impression. Alex Rivers looks fashionable untidy, and he proudly wears blue-stripped socks. Go figure, rich people actually buy clothes to look like normal folk.

 

He also looks exhausted and Sam notices the dark shadows under his eyes. He doesn't understand why he didn't see them at the park when the man had been sitting right in front of him.

 

"I'm guessing this spontaneous trip of yours has a lot to do with the disappearance of your father."

Sam is frozen, that was not the reply he was expecting. This can't be happening, they couldn't know about John, and if they did he needs to know how much they know.

 

"How…" Sam tries, but words are not cooperating with him. He's too distressed to organize his thoughts and form the proper sentences.

 

"Lara was right. You don't look as naïve as you really are. Think Campbell, or should I say Winchester? What kind of parents would allow their child to interact with a guy they don't know anything about?"

 

"You knew, but why? How?" Winchester, Alex Rivers knows his last name is Winchester. This could be bad; actually, this has the potential of being terrible.

 

"I'm going to humour you and explain, but I'm going to need full sentences instead of interrogative adverbs to give you a reply. Campbell, did you seriously think we were going to believe you are not a threat to Galen just because you said so?"

 

Sam wants to laugh at the unpredicted turn of events of the day. He feels as if he crashed and burned in the matter of minutes, and a part of him is not sure if what he's experiencing is relief or the start of a panic attack.

 

Alex raises an eyebrow at his lack of reply, still waiting for the kind of questions his brain seems incapable to formulate at the moment. Can he take a rain check on the questions?

 

"You're delusional."

Sam is not sure if he voiced his idea of a rain check out loud. Maybe he did, at this point it wouldn't really surprise him.

 

"I thought you disliked me because of the time I spend with Galen." The 'not because I'm delusional' part is left unsaid.

Alex looks at him, raises his hand in the universal sign for wait and move to the other side of the room to retrieve two bottles. Sam is given iced tea while his host hogs the water and without further notice Rivers plops himself down on the floor.

 

"Would you mind sitting down? I don't want to end up with a cricked neck if we're having this conversation. Yes, Campbell, I do get tired. Try being the father of a hyperactive ten year-old and then you'll have room to criticize me."

Sam chuckles and somehow this talk is not as foreboding as it seemed just a minute ago. He takes a sip of the iced tea and instead of an artificial flavour he finds it tastes similar to the ones from Charlie. He checks the label, made in France, go figure.

 

"Lets make something clear, if I disliked your presence you would have never been allowed to interact with Galen. I love my son and as any parent I want him to be happy, but it's my duty to keep him safe even if that makes him miserable for a while."

 

"So you don't hate my guts, because I appeared one day and started to stealing your son away from you."

 

"Don't be obtuse Samuel. You're not competing against me as father figure. Galen sees you, who know why, as a sort of sibling. Am I entirely happy with your presence in his life? No, I'm not, but not because he cares about you."

 

"I would never cause him any harm."

 

"Your father is a hunter. From what I learned you were trained to become one. That is not the safest profession in the world. I do not want to be the one to tell my child that a mythic beast mangled his friend right in the middle of nowhere. Do you see my point?"

Sam remains quiet for a couple of minutes. The logical side of him understands the facts that Alex has explained. The other side, the more irrational one feels that his trust has been betrayed with the investigation they did on him. Would he have told them the truth if they asked? He doesn't need to think the answer; it's the first rule of the Hunting 101. You never tell the truth about what lurks in the night.

 

"I'm not a hunter." The words leave his lips with his consent.

Alex raises an eyebrow at the vehemence of that declaration.

 

"I never said you were one. It doesn't change the fact that you're going after your father. Not that I can fault you on that. He's your father after all. You might not have chosen him, but he's still the one who gave you life."

Sam drums his fingers against bottle, this is a topic he's not comfortable to talk with Alex Rivers.

 

"I will be back. I have college and projects and becoming a hunter is not one of them."

 

"That life would always be a part of you. Family has a tendency to pull you back, no matter how much you run away from it."

 

"Are you talking from experience?" Despite the detached tone used by Alex, Sam's curiosity is picked because this is the first time Alex Rivers is offering personal information.

 

"Do you think I always wanted to be in charge of hundred of peoples' jobs. Let's just say that taking over the family business was not in my plans until the very last moment."

 

"At least your family business involves meetings and finance, and annoying people demanding your attention. My family business demands that you live in your car and travel across the country ceasing the existence of things that should not exist in real life, but have never been notified of it."

 

"Angered executive assistants can be pretty scary, picture them as harpies and you'll get my point."

Sam laughs and this time it feels liberating, this moment in time feels surreal. Alex is behaving so out of character, that he fears all of it is happening inside of his head and he's lying unconscious in an alley.

 

"Has anyone ever told you that you think to loud?" Alex offers as he sees the other man frown.

 

"Excuse me?" Maybe he's awake, because that comment sounded exactly like Alex, 10% concern and 90% insolence.

 

"It's kind of distracting. You over think and your whole body broadcasts it. Are you any good at poker? Anyway, we're getting out of the topic and I'm planning to get at least five hours of sleep tonight."

Sam fights down the need to snigger, because who knew that Alex Rivers was capable of rambling. He should cut the guy some slack, he does look exhausted and it might be influencing his behaviour, unless the water he's drinking is not just water.

 

"I'm officially lost." He settles for the closest thing to the truth.

 

"It's in my best interest that you remain in one piece, alive and healthy. I'm offering to provide you with the resources that would aid you to achieve that goal. I guess you could think of it as a sponsorship."

Sam blinks once, then twice, he's tempted to shake his head but he feels that Alex might punch him if he does that.

 

"Why?"

 

"Didn't we do this already? Your safety means that I don't need to introduce the concept of mortality to my child years earlier than what I planned to. It's entirely for my benefit, selfish reasons really."

 

"And when I come back, would I still be able to see Galen?"

 

"Have you been always this sentimental? Yes, you would be able to see Galen if that's what he wants."

 

"What kind of resources are we talking about?"

 

"Transport, permissions to travel with the weird contraptions your people call weapons, legit identifications to be granted access to crime scenes, the usual works."

 

"Uh…"

 

"You'll get assigned one of the jets of the company. Jules would be your pilot, call him and tell him where in California you need to be so he can prepare the flight plan."

 

"Ah…"

 

"Articulate as ever, at least you're no choking. We should consider it as an improvement."

 

"That's not… This is crazy, you can't do something like that."

Alex is back on his feet and Sam feels bothered by the fact that the man seems to have come back to his senses and is back to be his usual self.

 

"There's nothing crazy in trying to keep your name out of police records for impersonating people, besides that's the kind of things you don't want to have in your file if you plan to be lawyer. Tell Singer that he should consider himself lucky that it was Lara and no me who had the chat about proper behaviour with him. I'm going to regard that medallion as a good luck charm, but that would be the one and only thing I'm going to let pass."

 

"What is that suppose to mean?"

 

"He will understand."

 

"But…"

 

"I think you should talk with Galen, if I'm not mistaken he's awake already."

 

"I…"

 

"Go Campbell, we're done here."

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

It's the second time in the day that Sam is standing in the middle of the Rivers' kitchen, is a large room and despite the modern style of the furniture it looks and feels lived in. It probably has a lot to do with the schedule writing in Galen's surprisingly clear handwriting and the small board with coloured post-it with writings in different languages.

 

He misses the arrival of Galen who climbs on one of the stools and watches him silently. Head propped into one palm because the kid is too tired to attempt keeping a good posture at this hour.

 

"You're leaving."

 

Sam stops the shriek at the last second and it ends up sounding like a high-pitched 'epp'. He turns around to find the soon to be ten-years old staring at him and looking half-asleep despite his best intentions.

 

Galen's voice is hushed, still heavy with the sleep he interrupted not that long ago and Sam feels guilty for being the reason for the abrupt wake up call.

 

"I need to, I'm sorry."

 

"Mom said that your father is missing and that you need to go looking for him. Is that true?"

The word father is pronounced with so much detachment and contempt that Sam stares at Galen, he hasn't heard the child utter words in this tone before. He never uses the word father to refer to Alex, he has always been dad, and sometimes when he slips, it's ada. The latter he suspects means the same than the former in that foreign language of them.

 

"Yes, he's missing."

Galen nods and stare at him, his fingers fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt as. His eyes move across the room and focus on something at the back of Sam's head. He's looking on his direction but not at him.

 

"Would you come back once you find him?"

Sam nods and would give anything to erase the doubt in Galen's green eyes.

 

"I promise I will be back in a couple of days. I suspect he simply lost track of the days and forgot to check with his friends."

Galen finally looks at him and Samuel wishes he wouldn't have. Galen is not having a temper tantrum because he would miss his birthday party, no, the child seems to have picked the same sense of apprehension that Sam does. That this more than just a trip and things are about to change and probably not for the best.

 

"You can't promise something like that, you don't know that for sure. Don't make promises. Just tell me you would do your best to come back, one day. I can wait."

Sam feels that he is the most despicable human being on the planet. And, he is never going to criticize again Lara and Alex parenting's skills about what they are teaching their child ever. He has never met a child more mature than Galen.

 

"Galen, I will come back. I…"

Galen's fingers grace his hands and Sam stops his tirade.

 

"I know you would try, though we don't know if you would succeed."

Sam knows Galen doesn't like to be touched. His parents and Tommy are the only ones he had seen hugging and holding the child freely without him flinching from their contact. At this moment Sam would like to be part of that small elitist group.

 

"You are starting to sound like your parents."

Galen laughs at him and it's a happy sound instead of the reluctant acceptance he feared.

 

"They are my parents, and they're correct most part of the time. Just don't tell them I said that."

Galen gives Sam a small smile; he yawns and rubs his eyes tiredly. Sam peeks at his watch. Is half past eleven, no wonder the kid is tired.

 

"Good luck on your quest Sam. I hope you find what you are looking for."

 

"Thanks Galen. Happy birthday. I really wanted to be here."

 

"I know. Maybe next year."

As if called by some obscure motherhood instinct Lara walks into the kitchen, her fingers comb Galen's hair and he closes his eyes and leans against her arm. She gathers him on her arms, the action is evidently not foreign for them, as Galen's head rest comfortably on her shoulder and his arms circle her neck.

 

"Good luck Sam."

 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

tbc.


	7. Imitation of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody talks.   
> Alex and Tommy finally have a grown-up conversation, or as much grown-up as it is possible for them. Bobby enjoys wine on a jet plane. Caleb and Sam have a non-sibling phone call.

_**Chapter 7: Imitation of a Life** _

 

* * *

__

The sun rays sneak through the half open curtains, particles of dust fly suspended in the air and he is unable to stop looking at them. It's such a common sight, however, it's still mesmerising in its simplicity. If only the rest of the things in life were that simple and elegant.

A dark mug is held in front of his eyes, the smell tells him is black tea and ginger, a combination that he prefers whenever he gets in this sort of contemplative mood. His fingers grasp the mug as he prepares himself for the talk he managed to elude last night.

"Did you at least attempt to close your eyes this time? You need to sleep at some point, you're starting to look half dead."

He's tired of lying. Tired of pretending that things are fine when they're not, however, the certainty that things could be infinitely worse always success in stopping him from complaining.

"Do I ever? It's the only time when I can actually watch her without having to play a part."

Tommy snickers at him as he slides his frame against the wall to sit beside him. It's not the kind of dignified sound one would expect from the heir of a billion dollars company, still it's exactly what he expects from his best friend.

"Oh, you mean that yesterday you were not trying to get a reaction from of her? I'm quite sure that training is not supposed to end up looking like that. I should know, after all, I did train you."

Yes, he does know that, though he doesn't regret it. Yesterday, just for a couple of minutes it felt like she was back. The fire in her eyes and the way she moved. For a moment in time, he lost track of himself. He's not going to apologize for forgetting and wanting it to be true.

"What do you think are the odds of our survival this time around? I say 60%, though if it ends up depending on allies and from what I've seen so far I'll say 30%."

"That's not an answer Alex."

Tommy sounds slightly annoyed, if there's one thing he has always been is straightforward, sometimes to a painful degree. Tommy Valmont honestly hates when people run around in circles instead of being upfront. It's probably the hardest thing to pretend when he has to act like the careless rich boy society expects of him.

It's not Alex's intention to rile him up, not at the moment at least. He needs to make him look at the things from his perspective.

"It is an answer, though not the one you wanted. Last time we decided to step into their matters our losses factored in my decision. The lives of our people suffered because of it. It was a selfish decision, though none of you even tried to stop me."

"You're right, what we lost, what you lost made it easier for you to decide. However, it wasn't a selfish or thoughtless act. We needed time to get back on our feet, going back wouldn't have helped any of us."

The truth is they don't know that. Maybe leaving would have helped to save some lives, maybe nothing would have changed. He wants to believe he took the right decision, yet there's no way to know. He never intended for the others to stay, he simply knew he was not leaving without her.

"It feels like forever since my life made any sense. Am I still the right person for this job, was I ever the best choice?"

"I never had doubts about it then, and I don't have them now. Despite what you might regard as true, you have done an exceptional job and nobody has ever put in question your position."

"Until now." He hadn't been surprised at the opposition; actually, he would have been shocked if everyone accepted his word without an argument. It didn't mean that some of the things that were said in those meetings hadn't left him feeling dreadfully exposed. His personal life should have never become a topic, though it did, and that's when he had felt seriously tempted to throw caution to the wind and tell everyone to fuck off.

"They were not questioning your decision, well…they were, but not in the way you are thinking. She almost died, you almost fade, things escalated way too fast and we were unable to do anything about it. They are afraid for you, not of you. Last night's behaviour is not really helping."

"Sometimes it feels as if she's back. The way, she talks and moves, is so similar and I get my hopes up even though I know it's useless. I know it is never going to happen, but when those little things sum up in my head my brain shuts down and I just want to believe that it could be. I want to believe that all is not lost."

"Alex…"

"I'm not afraid, I'm actually terrified of the possibilities. You don't need to tell me that next time it could be the last one, I'm perfectly aware of it. This could be the one last moment that matters and if that's the case, then I want to live it without regrets. I don't care if I'm building castles in the sand. I truly don't."

Tommy sighs dramatically and nudges his shoulder with his own.

"So, here we go again?"

Alex laughs, because it sounds like Tommy agrees for a run to the grocery shop instead of acknowledging that he's placing his life in the line of fire, all over again.

"Yeah."

"I feel a bit like a pimp just by agreeing to help you to get laid."

"She 'is' my wife and is not just a matter to get laid." It's so much more than the physical need and attraction; it might be the easiest thing to spot, but it isn't the only thing that defined what they had.

"Though, it's one of the important parts. I saw the two of you last night."

So, he lusts after his wife, anyone who has seen his wife will understand that he has more than good reasons for it.

"That's crude. Weren't you the polite one?"

"Yesterday I was tempted to activate the fire alarm of your apartment just to douse both of you."

Alex doesn't even try to hide the smirk he knows is firmly placed on his face.

"Get a girlfriend Tommy, you can't live all that pent up frustration vicariously through me."

"Eko milb anirech rag."

"Hey! How does someone go French kissing a rat?"

"Silence is golden Alex."

 

* * *

 

Bobby stares at the blue sky that surrounds him and wonders, not for the first time if he's in a coma at some hospital. Reality has stopped making sense and for the life of him, his dreams had never implied such production and details. The leather seat, he's currently occupying is more comfortable than his couch at home and that's an issue, one should not feel so comfortable inside of a plane with hundred of miles above the ground.

The minute Sam said that they would not need to take his truck he had felt puzzled. Later, when he was told that they would be flying and transport details had been already arranged for them once they landed in California, Bobby had raised an eyebrow and waited for the explanation.

Apparently, Sam has been given access to one of Rivers' private jets in order to move faster. Documentation explaining their weapons had been issued under their real names and Bobby felt that it might be the first time in more than twenty years he wouldn't need to use a fake ID for a case. Sam seems to be on first name basis with their pilot, most likely because he called him at midnight to arrange all the details for their unexpected trip.

"Would you like something to drink? Jules is afraid that we might be down to chocolate milk, red wine, and Oreos."

"Strange combination."

"Alex and Galen use this jet most of the time."

"Ah."

"I know that look Bobby, just say it."

"Alexander Rivers, only heir of Rivers Enterprises gives you free access to his jet…"

"One of his jets. Jules said there are five, which are used mostly for the employees' trips across the country and the odd international one."

"The guy knows what your father does for a living and instead of calling the loony bin or the police, which are the things most people would have done, he goes and offers to help you out. He gives you one of his jets, he arranges real documentation for both of us, and he even organizes our mean of transport once we land in California. None of that looks suspicious to you?"

"Rich people are eccentric."

"Sam, there's quirkiness and insanity. No sane person, and he looked to me like a level-headed guy, would give you these types of resources without expecting something in return. There's something else, there has to be."

Sam knows there is, the only thing he has been asked in return, is to keep himself alive, which is something he was planning to do anyway. He could tell Bobby that last night Alex Rivers had looked more vulnerable and human than in all the months he had known him. He could do it, but decides not to. The conversation was between Alex and him, and it would remain strictly between them.

"Are you telling me that in all their history hunters had never had sponsors? A bunch of friendless, aggressive and most of the time unstable people, what's not to love in that combination? "

Bobby, despite his best attempt, can't help the slight amused smile at Sam's description of most of the hunters he has met. Kill first, don't bother with questions is the motto followed by the majority, sometimes is works, sometimes it doesn't. A hunter's life doesn't have many expectations, surviving to fight another day probably ranks the highest.

"I doubt there was an association to aid the hunters, hell we don't even have a proper organization. Mobs and gangs have better administrative skills than us."

However, Sam's point reminds Bobby that he really needs to talk to Jim about that old partnership he has been told about.

"We are not spending two days on the road, not that I don't enjoy your company Bobby, but you have to admit that you like the usual accommodation even less than me. Jules told me that we'll arrive at Moffett in two hours."

"And Moffett is?"

"Private use airport. It's the closest to Palo Alto. We pick our ride and get in our merry way to Jericho."

"hmm"

"You know Bobby, I would buy that you're as upset as you say you are if you wouldn't look so damn cheerful while drinking the wine."

"It's a good wine."

"It should be, it's Italian, Masseto Toscana."

"Am I supposed to know what you are talking about?"

Sam smirks and ponders if he should tell him already that he's been drinking a wine that cost over 3K per bottle. Bobby looks relaxed and Sam thinks that considering what they would be doing in the next couple of days he deserves this time to loosen up a bit. He would tell him later, maybe tomorrow, because he's really looking for the shocked expression on Bobby's face once he learned the truth.

"Not at all, useless knowledge I picked at NY."

"Should I be worried?"

"Don't think so, but Lara is proud and maybe that should be worrying. She thinks there's hope into converting me into a civilized man."

"Now, I'm worried. You're one of the most polished people I know."

"Just be glad that I'm not a girl nor under-age. I get the impression she would try to organize my presentation in society."

"Rich people are bat crazy."

Sam can't really agree with that. He suspects the rich people he has become involved with can't be used to measure others craziness. The Rivers seems to be in a league of their own.

 

* * *

 

Caleb is surprised when his phone starts ringing; the small screen displays an unfamiliar number. He rarely picks up calls from strangers and he's about to reject it, but in the last second his curiosity gets the better of him. He doesn't say anything and waits for the other person to say the first word.

"Caleb?"

Suddenly Caleb feels old, older than he should because Sam's voice no longer sounds as the Sam he used to know. He's not sure what he expected, but listening to a deeper Sam's voice was certainly not something he anticipated.

"Caleb? ... Bobby can I check the number again? I think I got it wrong."

"Easy, tiger. I can hear just fine."

"Hi Caleb."

It seems Caleb is not the only one at loss at what to say. It's strange considering that he has seen Sammy Winchester grew up from chubby child into willowy teenager, from quiet son who seemed to blend in the background to rebellious one who left home going after his dream. Even if that dream had nothing to do with the family business or John's expectations.

"Hello Sam, how's life? Done anything remotely interesting beside studying?"

In all the time, he has known Sam, Caleb has mastered the art of annoy the hell out of the boy to the point he thinks it's the only way they interact with each other. He saw himself as an honorary older brother who should teach Sam how to fend for himself against the world, even when Sam was a reluctant student most of the times.

"As dreadful as you could imagine Cal. I take you meant how's life besides being summoned for this hunting trip of yours?"

Well, that's certainly new. Either Stanford or wherever Sam is living these days had taught the boy sarcasm.

"Your father is missing Sammy, I think that should be reason enough."

Somehow Caleb knew the moment the words were out of his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.

"My father went missing in Clifton, he went underground in Amherst. You didn't feel the need to go looking after him those times."

"This time is different."

"I'm done with hunting Cal. I thought my father actually came to accept that fact."

"It's not as bad as you made it look."

"I was given a .45 when I was nine, because I told him there was something scary in my closet. I could have killed myself with that thing."

"What did you expect him to do?"

He hadn't been there when it happened, though he didn't doubt Sam's version and a small part of him agreed that tossing a gun at a child like Sam was a horrible idea.

"I wasn't expecting hugs or comfort words, God knows I was never that much delusional, but handing firearms to untrained children crossed the line Caleb."

He agrees though he would never say it out loud. He feels the need to defend John, though there's not much to say in his defense about that particular episode. Caleb goes with the other option, the default one.

"Are you going into therapy now that you're living the apple pie life?"

Silence. For a moment, Caleb thinks he might have crossed the boundaries of pretend older brother.

"I don't need a shrink to know that my childhood was dreadful. Apple pie life, seriously? I would have bought the white fenced house reference."

Sam's voice is colder, not angered as Caleb expected, instead of it he sounded annoyed but holding an impressive control of it.

"Look I certainly don't need to revisit those years. We are about to leave Palo Alto and were planning to go straight to Jericho unless you want to meet with us somewhere else first."

Palo Alto? Where exactly was Sam living these days?

"There's a gas station before the exit for Centennial Highway."

"Got it. We'll see you there."

"Sam…"

"Yeah?"

"This is really important. I wouldn't have asked Bobby to get you if I could solve it on my own."

"I know. Look, we were able to share the same living space for years. Let's just aim to avoid killing each other and find him, then we can go our separate ways."

Yes, Caleb hasn't forgotten that Sam was the one who walked away from his father. He felt the rebellious high school graduate walked away from him as well, though he pretended to be irritated on John's name because Sam is not his brother and John is not his father.

His thoughts are straying to the chick-flick movie moment and he desperately need to put distance between the 'if's' and 'could's' and the real world where he lives every day.

"Please, I taught you everything you needed to survive in the world. You're my creation."

He could almost hear the smirk in Sam's voice.

"My skills on how to skin a rabbit are a bit rusty these days. Maybe you weren't such a great teacher."

"Can't hear you man, passing through a..tunn…el."

Caleb hears the dry laugh that he got in reply as the line gets disconnected. He hasn't seen Sam in three years and now he wonders what kind of person he has become.

 

* * *

 

Bobby knows that Sam has definitely changed some of his habits when he watches, half amused and half annoyed, how the young man scans the convenience mart with the deadly precision of a hitman looking for something healthier than nachos for breakfast.

"Did they run out of your favourite brand of goat cheese?"

Sam gives him an exasperated look in reply.

"I was looking for some cereal bars. Are you going to sue me because I want to eat slightly healthier these days?"

"It's a convenience store Sam, just grab a sandwich."

Bobby decides to take the matter in his hands. He grabs a ham and cheese one and throws it in the general direction of Sam. If he thought that was the end of the matter, he was seriously wrong.

Sam stares at the plastic wrapping as if it is a fascinating thing he has ever seen and pokes at it with a cautious finger. His right eyebrow rises slightly before he gives it back.

"I rather skip breakfast today. You do know that ham is not supposed to have green dots like those, right?"

"Oh for the love of…" the words died as Bobby looks closer at the sandwich in his hand and realizes that Sam is actually right. That is not a sandwich, is a food menace.

"I'm sure there's a dinner somewhere along the way."

Sam nods from the dairy section where he has settled for tiny cartons of chocolate milk. At Bobby's dumbfounded look, he simply grins.

"Chocolate milk is the only thing Michael ever remembers to buy for the apartment. I got used to it."

He nods in acceptance, the fact that Sam is comfortable sharing an apartment with an Arts major student, whom recently got out of the closet would probably give John Winchester a stroke. It's a statement of the difference between them that Sam was not even fazed.

He has nothing against Michael, the guy is pretty decent from what he had seen, and both of them keep their private lives away from each other. They seem to get along well enough to keep the conditions in good conditions.

Bobby gets a coffee that tastes nothing like coffee. He ends up throwing it in the first trash bin he finds, which happens to be just outside of the shop. Sam hands him the other chocolate milk he got with a triumphant smile. Robert Singer chooses to act like the better, and older, man he is and refrains to make a comment. After the first sip from the stripped straw, he admits that maybe Michael is onto something with his choice of drink.

Both of them watch in silence at the sleek black car that is approaching their current location.

Caleb has arrived.

 

TBC…

* * *

 

_AN: Constructive criticism is always welcome, leave a review and let me know what you think about the story so far._

Playlist suggested for this short chapter…

'The Writing's On The Wall', OK Go

'Champagne Supernova', Oasis

'A Dream Within a Dream', Oren Lavie

'Collect Call', Metric


	8. Whimsical Mimicry Techniques

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galen birthday party is a public event that doesn't amuse the birthday boy or his parents. Sam and Caleb have minor clashes that are not a mimicry of siblings spats. Trees can be dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are mine. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

_**Chapter 8: Whimsical Mimicry Techniques** _

 

* * *

 

 

Galen's laugh echoes through the room. It's a delightful sound that forces everyone in the vicinity to fight down a treacherous real smile. Society functions have no room for real emotions; it's a principle everyone in attendance has learned at an early age.

For most of the guests present at the celebration, Galen represents the window of opportunity to access the Rivers' family. Alexander and Lara had kept their child away from the public for years, it is an attitude many have condemned as overzealous; however, for those who remember that Alex Rivers had dealt with at least five abduction attempts before he turned twenty, it is not surprising at all. The head of Rivers' Enterprises chose to keep his family out of sight and out of mind for as long as he was capable to.

Blessed with the aristocratic looks of his parents Galen is a bewitching lad and most of the guests already foresee the broken hearts the younger Rivers would leave behind once he decides that girls are worth of his time. Hopefully, it would be a couple of years before the public needs to start worrying about it, and they are a hundred per cent confident that they would do. The apple would not fall that far from the tree, after all the stories about the escapades of Alex Rivers and Tommy Valmont are the stuff society legends are made of.

 

* * *

 

 

Galen stares at the sea of faces he has never seen before and fights down the need to cringe away from them. It's the public celebration of his birthday, the day he has been dreading for months and the event he has been working on getting ready for with the help of his family.

Among the mass of strangers, there are the ones who matter to him. At least one his parents have been by his side at all times since the moment the first guest walked into the lounge. Lara and Alex are great at running interference, they form a formidable wall against the wandering hands and vicious fingers that do their best to reach him. Physical contact is the one thing he is not yet comfortable with and on days like this one Galen wonders if he ever would be fine with it, if he would ever feel normal.

Tommy has kept the scheming mothers away using an art he's been told he would master when the right time comes. He still managed to hear the ill-concealed whispers about alliances between companies, that could be achieved through marriage. It is a ludicrous concept as he is a child, and not even a human one. Society mothers with children of his age are unnerving women and they also seem to dislike immensely his mother. Mrs. Darce, the nicest old lady he has been introduced to so far, told him that glower was the look of resentfulness; after all, Lara DuPont managed to do what no other women did, she married the Rivers scion.

Mrs. Darce doesn't know that his parents have been playing this game of pretence longer than her family history. She doesn't know that Michael and Alex's Rivers were the same person and that is the reason why she is always invited to the Rivers' events, even though she's one of the oldest people in the room and her family business holds no interest for them. She doesn't know, but that is all right, she is fun and full of stories about the guests and most important, she does like his mother.

Sam is missing, though Galen is glad he didn't invite him to this particular event. He is not entirely sure that Sammy is ready to deal with the ruthless upper class of society. His brother might be capable of fighting mystical creatures and end up with the upper hand, but intriguing businessmen and conspiring mothers require a set of skills Sam has not acquired yet.

He wanted for Sam to attend his real birthday party, the one that would take place in the evening, far away from strangers and flashlights. He was close to getting his wish fulfilled, though plans changed at the last minute. It's a physic's law that cannot be neglected; you cannot be at two different places at the same time and he doesn't want to try cloning Sam in order to defy that law. His brother has joined a wild chase on the other side of the country, and there's no certainty about when he would return.

He is going to miss him. They are not as close as they used to and he never expected it to be, not with everything that happened in all these years. Sam doesn't know or doesn't remember anything about Dean and Galen is not going to lie to himself, that piece of knowledge hurts a bit. He practically raised the boy for almost five years and there is a part of him that hoped someone would notice his absence, someone who cared about him, someone like Sam. He has been told countless times that humans are fragile, their minds are different and even if they care they eventually do forget. His kind forgets too, it's unusual, but it happened. His parents are an example of it, so he doesn't see the point of blaming Sam for failing to remember Dean. It still hurts though.

Galen doesn't blame Sam, but he worries about him. He supposes it is part of the older brother responsibilities he used to have, only that nowadays he doesn't look the part of the older sibling. The whole 'family business' of hunting and slaying monsters makes his skin crawls and it has nothing to do with fearing the creatures they fight. There is something they are missing, something they should know but have not been able to learn yet. It's one of the main reasons why his parents have been so occupied lately, their plans have to be flexible enough to adapt to that unknown factor.

He knows where he stands with Sam, what he is still trying to decide is how he feels about the disappearance of one John Winchester. He used to hope for something like that to happen when he was living with the man, a part of him always wished that every time John walked out of the door it would be the last one. It never worked like that and Winchester always came back, wishful thinking proved to be useless.

He doesn't want to see the man ever again, at least if he's given the choice. He is no longer afraid of him, though he fears what he might end up doing if he is forced to interact with him. Galen Rivers is not the same defenceless child who died because of John's irrational prejudices; he is not Dean, not anymore and while he might have overcome the bulk of the trauma he went through, he hasn't forgiven nor forgotten what the hunter did to him.

His perspective of the world changes in a second and suddenly he is up in the air with meters keeping him away of the ground and the dreadful thoughts he came up with. Galen feels weightless as gravity loses its hold on his body and he feels free. He laughs out loud and the action is rewarded with a grin, steel blue ways look anything but cold and he feels loved, protected, wanted. The sound of his laughter echoes through the room and he can feel the eyes of the guests suddenly zeroing on him, instead of worrying about the unwanted attention the laugh bubbles one more time as his body sails upwards defying both the gravity law and the curious stares.

Strong arms surround him and Galen stops worrying about the guests, Sam and John Winchester.

 

* * *

 

 

As far uncomfortable silences go this one is not too terrible. Sam knows that Caleb is unable to stay silent for more than five minutes; however, he is not interested in giving him the upper hand.

"So, what do we believe we're hunting?"

Caleb raises an eyebrow at the question. It's not a warm greeting, but it's not a screaming match and that counts as positive in his book. Sam has gone straight to business; he can do that as well. He nods in Bobby's direction, there is no reason to disrespect the surly hunter.

"Hello to you too. Something that favours males instead of females and that has been quite active during the past decade."

Sam ponders for a second and Caleb realizes the gesture is almost the same than the one Bobby does. He tends to forget that before he made himself a place in the Winchester household, Sam used to spend full months living at the older hunter's home. The man standing in front of him spent his formative years under the watchful eye of a seasoned hunter, one that who was not his father and it looks like he ended up adopting some of his traits.

"Well, that certainly narrows the search."

Caleb hears clearly the sarcasm in Sam's voice and he is not conjuring it up this time. He's not looking to start a fight, or a discussion with his mentor's son, he just want to find John. His eyes roam the parking lot and he berates himself for not noticing the vehicle the other two men are leaning against.

"Bobby, man…since when do you drive an SUV?" Caleb is eyeing suspiciously the sleek black Ford Explorer. It's a brand new car and if he's not mistaken it is their brand new model. He has never seen Bobby with a vehicle that has not been manufactured at least a decade ago.

"Sam's got connections."

Caleb is not going to buy that answer. There's something fishy going on and he wants to know what. "With whom? A drug lord?"

Sam's posture changes completely, Caleb knows he has struck a nerve though he is not sure if that's a good thing.

"It doesn't concern you Caleb. The point is we got here earlier than expected because of that, isn't that something good?"

He can see that despite his obvious discomfort Sam is giving him an opening to walk out of this argument. The problem is, Caleb never backs down, not even when the smartest thing to do is exactly that.

"Is any of it legal?"

He expected different things to happen when he asked that particular question, but the loud snort of disbelief from Sam was not one of them.

"You and my father live by scamming with credit cards. Do you really think that you are entitled to criticize anything I do?"

Caleb is not going to defend his position on means of survival, from his point of view if people are dumb enough to give them the credit cards it is not his fault. Hunting is not exactly a profitable job, but he's not going to waste time trying to explain it to Sam, the important part is that Sam has not given him a reply.

"So, it's not legal." He states it as if it is a fact, though he knows that Sam has not denied or accept the accusation. It's not that hard to believe after all, though it still hilarious that straight as an arrow Sam Winchester now plays for the dark side.

"Go to hell Caleb."

It's not the words, but the emotions behind them that force Caleb to take a step behind. Sam looks deceptively calm, and while he can see the way his body relaxes into a defensive position, it's his eyes that tell him that he's going to regret saying something else about this topic.

Bobby stomps his foot against the concrete, which is something that caught him by surprise and effectively stops the argument on his part. Sam's entire posture deflates and he's looking apologetic, even remorseful.

"Cut if off idjits. Caleb you wanted me to bring Sam. Well, here's Sam."

Caleb is about to say something, but Sam beats him with the original question.

"So, once again. What do you think he was hunting?"

 

* * *

 

 

Galen escapes to the gardens the moment the guests start leaving the premises of the building, he knows at least one of the security guards is following him or at least trying to do it. It's not his fault if he was such a good student to Tommy's lessons about losing trails, he has practised enough that the doing it has become an unintentional action.

He knows the basic layout of the property, all the exits and safe havens in case of an emergency. Lara and Alex had been adamant that he learnt about them once the location was chosen; it's not a matter of unjustified paranoia, but a reality that comes with their family name.

His parents had stopped using private properties for such large events ever since he became part of the family. His security has become their priority, and both of them know with far too much detail what greed does to the hearts of men.

Galen smiles mischievously as he finds what he was looking for. It stands out from the rest of the carefully designed garden, almost as if it didn't really want to be part of it and was convinced against its will at the last moment. The large oak tree is old, older than the house by at least a century. It has been a silent witness to more than five hundred years of history and seems weary of strangers, he doesn't blame it, as the actions of men are confusing even to other men and it only makes sense that nature wouldn't care about human trivialities such as money and power.

He knows it's the perfect place even before he starts climbing its branches. It would hide him and give him enough time to gather his troubled thoughts without other people hovering around him. He almost feels sorry for the scare he would give the guard with his disappearance, the key word is almost.

The view from the higher branches is amazing, from this height he can see the bridge across the East Lake and the house look even more impressive. It reminds him of their house in England, he loves that house and all its secret passages. The spring breeze is cool and he closes his eyes enjoying the moment, savouring the solitude after hours of interacting with strangers.

All around him the temperature suddenly drops and his eyes open immediately. He is not at the top of the tree any more, but in a house, with no lights that reeks of darkness and agony. Galen wants to get out of this place as fast as possible, just the feel of it is making him queasy. That's when he heard it, a pained whimper that sounds so hopeless that he can't stop himself. He changes direction in search of the source.

The blonde woman is young and looks absolutely terrified of the man in front of her. It could be because the man is swirling a large knife in erratic movements while he paces around her. It could be because the man has a scissor embedded in his chest and it doesn't seem to stop him. Or maybe it could be because the man's eyes are completely black.

Galen screams and suddenly he's falling from the tree, his hands search frantically for a branch to hold on to but his fingers can't seem to find anything. The tree can't help him either, he has being silent for too long and he forgot how to interact with his kin, it feels his panic but it can't do anything to aid him.

He closes his eyes and covers his head. He just knows the impact is going to hurt and he would be lucky if he doesn't break anything.

 

* * *

 

 

Some guests still linger at the ballroom; others have migrated to the entrance hall and are in their way to leave, though most of them have already left. The party had officially ended half an hour before, though some people seem to refuse to acknowledge that fact.

Lara keeps a smile on her face and pretends to listen with rapt attention to Mrs. Goldberg tale about a fund raising event she missed last year. It's not the first time she's been told the story, Mrs. Goldberg has done it five times including this one, yet she doesn't remember it. Patricia Goldberg has been diagnosed with Alzheimer a year ago. Humans are so fragile.

Lara knows how it feels to be unable to remember. She's fragile as well and more likely, irremediably broken. She woke up one day in a world she couldn't remember, surrounded by people who were total strangers. Lara is well aware of the kind of fear that spreads through your body when the face in the mirror is completely unfamiliar to you. That is probably the reason why every single time she listens to Mrs. Goldberg's story, she pretends is the first time.

Galen is missing, she's almost sure that he has escaped to the gardens. She saw the way he was looking at the tall oak tree the other day. It's almost frightening how Galen and Alex are very much alike when it comes to restless behaviour.

Her body freezes, her eyes widen and she's moving out of instinct towards the garden. Something terrible is about to happen.

 

* * *

 

 

Alex Rivers watches relieved as the guests' numbers slowly starts to decrease. Social functions are more tiring on him than a training session with Tommy and Lara. He almost prefers business meetings, at least there the number of people he has to interact is drastically reduced. It might not be the people, but the sycophantic attitude they adopt towards him what grates on his nerves. He doesn't have this problem with his kin, probably because they know nothing good would ever come from grovelling at his feet.

The man in front of him is still talking, though Alex has no idea about the topic or when did he step in front of him. He's looking at him and he refrains from nodding, experience had taught him the dangers of giving even the small hint of agreement with some people. Specially people he doesn't remember meeting before.

His eyes scan the room in time to see the Millers depart, one less thing to worry about. Frank Miller had been trying to corner him since he stepped into the hall and he suspects the IRS visit a month ago is the main reason behind the other man's actions.

Lara is still conversing with Patricia Goldberg, though the latter seems to be doing all the talking.

Galen is missing from the room, enjoying the freedom that youth gives him, he had escaped to the gardens. If he could he would have done exactly the same, trees are a better companion than toadying people. He's extremely proud of his son, today was an important test and he passed with flying colours. It gives him hope that one day Galen would be able to interact with others free of the shadow of John Winchester's actions.

He feels his muscles stretch tightly without apparent reason as he moves swiftly to the door. Some people stare, not only at him but at Lara as well who is also in motion. Their eyes find each other and they know exactly who is the person in danger. Galen.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam holds back the imperative need to stomp on Caleb's foot when he hears the appalling comment he gives to the officer. The only reason that stops his natural reaction is the fact that they all agreed that is better if Bobby and him pretend not to have any type of relation with the other hunter, though it doesn't stop him to conclude that Caleb is as reckless as ever.

He wonders if the world is really that warped that people truly believe the utter ridiculous lies that Caleb delivers. It might be the confidence he has when he says the words, his eyes never hesitate and he becomes exactly what he says he is or at least what people expects him to be. Somehow that attitude reminds him of the presumptuous attitude of that bunch of crows in Dumbo, the comparison is so bizarre that it almost makes him laugh. It's clear he's been spending too much time with Galen if now he's using Disney's movies as a source to draw analogies.

Sam is grateful that he doesn't need to impersonate anyone but himself; he's still a lousy liar miles away from the expertise of the other hunters. He is also quite sure that even if he wasn't, there's no way he could have persuaded the police officers that he was a federal marshal as Caleb proposed in the beginning, his age makes it too noticeable. Having a solid alibi provided by one of the most renowned companies in the country gives him the kind of peace of mind he never had when he was coerced into a hunt. When it comes to safety nets the Rivers surely know how to weave a very strong one.

Bobby and he made an appearance at Sylvania Bridge five minutes after Caleb. The traffic has been interrupted and the two of them walking toward the police officers in order to find out when traffic would go back to normal does not look suspicious at all.

The encounter doesn't provide much information and Caleb retreats quite fast when the sheriff approaches. Bobby makes a comment about methods for recovering bodies, knowledge gained from his time in the army, and it works like magic. The attitude of the local enforcers relax visibly, the war veteran card has works wonder with the officers.

They stay close enough to the group in order to hear the round of questions and answers between the locals and the FBI agents. There is a lack of information in that front as well and they leave sooner than expected, there is no need to call unwanted attention to themselves.

Bobby believes they might be after a woman in white, giving that all the victims have been males and that one is a good hypothesis to begin with. They haven't found any sign of John's presence yet, there's the possibility that his father is no longer in Jericho.

 

* * *

 

 

When Galen opens his eyes he is laying on his bed, his left arm in a sling and his wrist surrounded by a stark white cast. His head feels heavy and he's definitely thirsty. The attempt of moving to sit down is aborted when he feels the intense pain from his collarbone, an involuntary hiss leaves his lips and suddenly he's staring at two different but equally concerned pairs of blue and grey eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He's not sure if he's apologizing for disappearing from his own party or for falling down from a tree. This is the first accident he had that has required medical treatment since he became a Rivers. His health had taken a long time to be stabilized, and it has been only this year when he has been given a clear bill. He worries he might have caused a relapse with this new injury.

Her hands are soft and cool, and they feel great against the slightly warm skin of his forehead. A kiss is brushed against his temple and he feels the relief the action brings to his mother. "It was an accident Gal. How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty?" He also feels the stabs of pain in his shoulder, but he doesn't want to worry them about it.

His father is brushing the wayward locks of hair from his eyes, the action is soothing and he closes his eyes enjoying the once foreign feeling of being protected and loved. He's so relaxed that his eyes close in content and he almost misses the question he's been asked. "Gal, what's the main rule of this family?"

His eyes open immediately and he gives them both a guilty look. "My shoulder hurts."

His mother gives him a look of fond exasperation, this is not the first time he tries to downplay an injury. Her hand moves over his shoulder without touching it and her lips whisper words in a language he has not been taught yet. Grey eyes flare for a couple of seconds and they turn azure blue, the pain begins to ebb.

"Better?" The question comes from his father, who holds a glass of water with a plastic straw for him.

Half of the glass is gone before he can reply. "Much better, thanks."

Tommy walks into the room with a carefree smile, though his eyes are shadowed. He's holding a tray with a goblet full of ice cream.

"I'll have you know that our kin rarely falls out of trees, unless, of course, we pissed them of first. There was a time when your father got into a full argument with… a yew tree. It was the most amusing thing to witness."

Galen laughs at the mental image of his father arguing with a tree. Alexander Rivers is far too regal to argue with anyone or anything, unless, apparently, you are a yew tree.

"It was not that hilarious." Alex attempts to defend himself, though the grin on his face tells a different story.

Lara smiles, it's a rueful smile because she wonders if she was present at such episode. "Gal, you have climbed plenty of trees. What happened?"

The question sobers him up immediately. He remembers watching the park from the top of the tree, the feel of the cool breeze and then he remembers falling. He remembers feeling completely helpless as he fell through the same branches he used to climb up. Something happened before, though he can' remember what it was.

"I don't know." He is being honest and both of his parents nod at him. Their timetable is going to change, some medical tests would probably be scheduled and the celebration of his birthday might have to be postponed.

"Well, dig in. This thing melts far too soon, they don't do it as they used to." It is the disapproving complaint from Tommy.

"Your old age is catching up Valmont." Lara points out with an innocent smile.

Alex watches their antics with a smile. Something is not right. The pull they both felt when Galen fell down was far too strong for it to be only a physical injury. He knows that Lara is going through the same analysis; despite the laughs and childish barbs her eyes have the same distant focus she used to have when planning a strategy. Parenting is a new territory for them; in order to get the answers they seek, they are going to need to contact the elder.

 

* * *

 

 

Azazel smiles satisfied with himself. The orders have been delivered to the demon that took residence in one of Sam's old friends from California. Brady is going to be the perfect tool to push the younger Winchester into the right path. The only thing left to do for him is to orchestrate Samuel's presence at the right time and place.

He could have sworn he felt a presence while he went through the plans with Brady, but that's impossible.

TBC…

 

* * *

 

 

_AN: Constructive criticism is always welcome, leave a review and let me know what you think about the story so far._

Playlist suggested for this chapter…

'Chez Moi', Emilie-Claire Barlow

'Element', Matthew Mayfield

'Eyes on Fire', Blue Foundation

'Until We Bleed', Lykke Li

'Elusive', Scott Matthews

'Smile Like You Mean It', The Killers

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer : Supernatural and their characters belong to their respective owners. I’m merely borrowing them for a time. No profit is gained with this story.


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